


Paradise Circus

by astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Let me take this opportunity to welcome you to the Paradise Circus Civilian Staff roster. It is our sole purpose to ensure that our guests are treated with the respect they deserve as heroes preserving the freedom of our nation. We're happy to have you aboard for the duration of your service contract. Remember that your efforts ensure the continued peace Japan enjoys.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate history AU set in 2012 Japan. Includes strong language; sex (non-explicit); mention of suicide; heavy angst - my usual cheerful fare.

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT  
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST  
FREEDOM SEGMENT  
AIRED 14 APRIL 2012 - 23:17-23:28

MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: We now turn to Sakurai Sho for the Freedom segment of our broadcast. Sakurai-san, good evening.

SAKURAI SHO, CORRESPONDENT: Good evening, Murao-san.

MURAO: Yesterday's heroes have brought us this new day, and we honor them.

SAKURAI: We do, indeed, Murao-san. In less than forty minutes another group of heroes will join the brave men, women, and children who came before them. Tonight I'd like to highlight the contributions of one of yesterday's heroes, Higashiyama Noriyuki. 

(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)

SAKURAI: (narration) Pop idol legend Higashiyama Noriyuki was born in Kawasaki in 1966. Rising through the ranks of the idol agency Playzone, Higashiyama debuted as a member of Our Nation's Voices in 1985. With several number one singles and albums, Our Nation's Voices delivered memorable performances all over Japan. In addition, Higashiyama appeared in numerous television programs, stage plays, and films and was well-known for his diligence, hard work, and incomparable skills. Higashiyama leaves behind an incredible legacy as well as a wife, actress Kimura Yoshino-san, and one child.

(END PHOTO MONTAGE)

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

HIGASHIYAMA NORIYUKI: I have been incredibly blessed over the years, but I have been selected, and to me, there may be no greater honor. So my fans can live another day, I will go. So my son can continue to live in a Japan that knows peace, I will go. Thank you all so much for your support, it has truly been an amazing journey. 

(END VIDEO CLIP)

SAKURAI: Higashiyama Noriyuki, a hero ensuring Japan's lasting freedom. He was forty-five years old.

MURAO: I went to a concert by Our Nation's Voices once.

SAKURAI: Oh really?

MURAO: Yes, yes! In 1989 at the Budoukan. You must have been in grade school then, huh?

SAKURAI: You're right!

MURAO: It was mostly teen girls, you understand. (laughs) But being a young man at an idol concert, you see, it makes one popular!

SAKURAI: (laughs) I never thought of it that way!

MURAO: Higashiyama-san, what an incredible talent. Ah, but I'm getting carried away. Sakurai-san, if you will.

SAKURAI: Every night this program ensures that the sacrifices of all heroes are recognized. Yesterday Higashiyama Noriyuki-san was joined in death by ninety-nine others. Let us commence with the reading of the names.

\---

**PARADISE CIRCUS**

\---

The air was crisp and chilly as Jun exited the command center and started the walk to the parking lot. Some of the stragglers, growing soft from the months spent on an easier assignment, dragged their feet as they moved through the Midway. In an hour, it would be different. Every man and woman would conduct themselves with dignity and pride, but it seemed to Jun that most of his colleagues didn't flip their duty switches to "on" until that first bus came through the gate.

Jun had risen before the sun at 0430 hours, arriving at 0515 in his civilian clothes. He'd been the first in the locker room, even before the Lieutenant had arrived. He took his assignment seriously, even if it still felt a bit strange to wear camo in a place like this. He was eight months into Paradise Duty, and he didn't understand why he was dressed for battle. There was nothing to fight here. But perhaps the uniforms served as a reminder for guests. The Ground Self-Defense Force was at Paradise Circus to help march them toward inevitability.

So in Jun's mind there was no excuse for looking anything but his best. Boots polished and laced tight, uniform clean and unwrinkled, his sidearm properly holstered (even if it only contained rubber bullets). On other assignments he'd dug through mud to rescue people trapped by landslides. He'd tromped through flooded streets to keep opportunists from looting. Paradise Duty kept his hands clean.

There was the scent of stale cotton candy and salty popcorn drifting down the Midway, and the empty merry-go-round always unnerved him in the early hours. The Midway at rest was an eerie thing, all the lights off and devoid of life. But soon enough the organ would start, the horses would bob up and down, and the ride would turn. The jet coaster would click its way up the short lift hill. The barkers would call out to the guests. Jun would stand and observe.

Everyone assembled in the parking lot. There were usually two buses, and they left the Shinjuku terminal at 0630. The sign at the gate read "Welcome to Paradise Circus" in a script made to resemble a child's sloppy handwriting. The "Welcome Heroes" banners hung all around the lot and throughout the park. Jun stood at attention at 0715 when the first bus rolled through. At his side, Oguri muttered under his breath.

"Bet they would have stayed home if they knew 'Paradise' was just another name for Nerima."

Jun ignored his friend. It wasn't really the time or place for jokes. Especially jokes he made without fail almost every time they pulled first rotation duty. The bus door remained closed, but Jun could see a few faces peering out from behind the window glass. He knew some of them were looking at the high walls that enclosed the facility, the curls of barbed wire atop them ringing the green fields, hotel, and Midway grounds. The second bus arrived five minutes later, and each door opened with a light hiss.

Lieutenant Katori was good at his job. He was good-humored in a way Jun secretly wished he could be, and his face was the first one the guests saw when they stepped out of the buses each day. "Good morning, good morning," he said cheerfully, clipboard in one hand as he waved the quiet men and women out of the buses.

Today was a good day, Katori had said in the command center earlier. The youngest guest on the list was fourteen. Kids made for difficult guests. There was so much they simply couldn't understand. They asked questions. And they would cry when Jun explained that no, they couldn't go home. As soon as all one hundred guests exited from the buses, Katori began the roll call.

The guests raised their hands meekly, obediently, and one by one Katori assigned them to a member of the Self-Defense Force. The Paradise Ground Unit that Jun was part of included twenty men and women each shift - five guests to each member of the unit. Guests were granted enough independence to walk the grounds, but in the eight months Jun had been on Paradise Duty, many seemed content enough to let Jun usher them around most of the day.

Katori sent two old men, a middle-aged woman, and two young men, maybe college aged, over to him. The groups started to depart the parking lot as Jun heard the sounds of the Midway begin. The organ music of the merry-go-round was already reaching his ears as the civilian staff got to their posts. Paradise Circus was open for the day. 

"I'm Corporal Matsumoto," he introduced himself calmly. "I'm your escort today. If you have any questions about Paradise Circus, I'll do my best to answer them or find a member of staff who can."

The middle-aged woman was staring at her feet, and the two younger men looked antsy. "We can go on the rides, right?" one of them asked.

"If you wish to walk the grounds independently, I only ask that you check in with me on the hour," Jun explained. "On the Midway, please meet with me by the goldfish catching booth. You are free to use the hotel's facilities as well, and if you're otherwise engaged there, please have a member of staff get in touch with me. You have freedom of the grounds until 7:00 PM sharp. At that time, we ask that you make your way to the hotel."

The young men nodded and headed off together, walking with the same shuffling stroll Jun recognized in most people who arrived at Paradise Circus. The old men informed Jun that they would go to the hotel. The woman said nothing, and Jun approached her cautiously.

"Hello there," he said.

She didn't reply.

"There are lots of things to do here. What kind of activities do you enjoy?" Her shoulders drooped slightly. She was obviously crying. "I imagine it was tough getting on a bus so early in the morning. There's a room for you at the hotel. I'd be happy to walk you there. Or if you'd like to walk through the park there's some lovely flower beds. I watched them plant them a few weeks ago."

"The hotel," she managed to say, and Jun felt rather fortunate to have such an easy morning. Even now he could hear some of the other guests arguing with other members of the Ground Unit, some complaining about the 7:00 PM curfew, others about the need to check in. He matched the woman's pace, slowly leaving the asphalt of the parking lot behind and bypassing the Midway in favor of the cement path that led to the Paradise Hotel.

It was a three-story red brick building, resting at the top of a small hill. As they headed up the path, Jun could see staff hurrying across the grass, looking for people to help. They made their way to the hotel lobby, and he was just about to have the front desk staff escort the woman to her room when she grabbed hold of his sleeve to halt their steps.

"I have three children," she told him. 

"I'm very sorry." He wanted to hold her hand, give it a squeeze, but that's what the civilian staff were for. Even then, Riisa at the front desk was walking around to come over and help. "They have materials in the rooms if you wish to write letters to your family."

Riisa was better at this than him. It was her job to be good at it. "Ah, Corporal Matsumoto, good morning."

"Good morning," he said politely. It wasn't his job to smile and be friendly, and he could already tell the woman at his side was relaxing a bit as soon as Riisa came up and wrapped her arm around her shoulders.

"Corporal, we'll be happy to take care of our guest. I'm sure you have important duties to attend to all over the park!"

Even after this many years in the Self-Defense Force, he'd never managed to be this awake and cheerful at 0730 hours. Riisa's perkiness had annoyed him at first, but he'd grown used to it, took some measure of comfort in it. "Thank you very much."

All five guests accounted for, Jun left the hotel and took a long look around. The park to the north with its bright green lawns and colorful flowers, the Midway to the south with its rides and games, the Village to the east with the staff buildings. All of it beautiful. All of it ringed by a wall with barbed wire at the top. Even now the cameras in the command center were pointed at him loitering.

He headed for the Midway to see what rides his younger charges had chosen. 

\---

Let me take this opportunity to welcome you to the Paradise Circus Civilian Staff roster. It is our sole purpose to ensure that our guests are treated with the respect they deserve as heroes preserving the freedom of our nation.

As a valued member of our team, you serve as the face of gratitude and kindness in their final hours. Making people smile is not always so easy, but through the magic of your thoughtful, courteous, and helpful nature, guests coming through our gates will depart this world for the next peacefully. To run an effective operation takes many qualified, hardworking people. You are a staff member at Paradise Circus because we feel you have good judgment and will use good common sense in the performance of your duties and in your personal conduct.

We're happy to have you aboard for the duration of your service contract. Remember that your efforts ensure the continued peace Japan enjoys.

From the _Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual_ , Chapter One: Introduction.

\---

Employee orientation had lasted the entire morning. The bus from Chiba City had dropped him off at 10:00 PM the night before where a man in Self-Defense Force gear had come to pick him up from the bus station in a jeep. The moving service had already delivered his stuff which the staff had brought into his room in employee housing. Everything seemed extremely efficient.

There'd been little time to get acquainted with his new home. His room was decently sized, and he had his own en-suite bathroom, but he hadn't unpacked anything yet. He'd just curled up on the mattress with his jacket for a pillow. There were employee rooms on each floor, and kitchen facilities were shared with the other people in the house on the ground floor. It was a squat, two-story white brick building set around a well-manicured patch of grass with several other matching buildings. It reminded Aiba of a summer camp or a set of school dormitories, though the other staff members milling around the grounds were of varying ages.

Guests arrived at Paradise Circus around 7:00 AM, and though there'd been very little direction upon arrival, Aiba had been told to report to the command center for orientation at 6:30 AM. Following orientation he'd be working an afternoon shift with his evening free to get settled in. 

The command center itself was a gray building, nondescript save for the cameras and numerous "STAFF ONLY" signs plastered everywhere. He'd been half asleep when he entered, helping himself to some coffee and pastries that had been set out for new employees. The orientation consisted of lots of paperwork. Aiba thought he'd already signed his whole life away when he'd first signed his contract, but there were employee codes of conduct to sign, tax paperwork, and bank stuff for his paycheck.

And of course there'd been the lottery forms. Even now he was worried about how much his hand had been shaking when he'd filled them out, pencilling in the names and identity card numbers for his mother, his father, his brother, and his brother's wife. Ten years. Ten years they'd be okay. 

Only two other employees had been in the room for orientation with him. Job openings at Paradise Circus rarely occurred. Most people remained in their contracts for the duration. He and the other two had probably just gotten lucky. After all the paperwork, there'd been videos. The typical sexual harassment ones, of course. Then the government videos they'd shown all the time when he'd been in school. About the war, about the foundation of the Paradise Circus program. He'd found himself paying a lot more attention to the videos now than he had when he was fifteen and more interested in the legs of the girl sitting next to him in class.

They'd finished the videos and received a tour of the grounds. Aiba was already dressed in his staff uniform. Assignments were fairly arbitrary, the man who ran the orientation had explained. New employees were simply placed where there were openings. When other staff members' contracts were up, current employees could lobby for their posts. So for now Aiba was in the basic staff uniform for the Paradise Hotel. The clothes had been laid out on his bed when he'd arrived the night before.

Those working the Midway looked like anyone who'd work at Fuji-Q Highland or some other amusement park. They had blue slacks, white polo shirts, and blue windbreakers. Hotel staff wore black slacks (skirts for the ladies), white dress shirts under a red sweater vest, and a plain black tie. It was fancier than anything Aiba had ever worn for work before, but then again, he'd only worked at the karaoke place and as a waiter at his parents' restaurant, and neither of those places thought ties were necessary.

Even then as they walked the Midway there were a few guests milling about, Self-Defense Force guys behind them. Aiba watched an old lady and a guy in his 30's compete against each other in a ring toss game while two guys in their early 20's were being strapped in to the jet coaster. Aiba was kind of amazed there was a jet coaster in the first place. Fully staffed by a team of four or five as far as he could tell, the two young men sat alone in the very last car. It wasn't a big fancy coaster by any means, but even still, was it necessary?

Orientation officially ended at the parking lot. The other two employees were assigned to the Midway, so Aiba headed to the hotel. He passed a female guest about his age who was simply lying in the grass and staring up at the sky. He almost said hello to her, but he figured he'd wait until his shift had officially started. Upon entering the hotel in his uniform, a young woman from the front desk came over with a smile. She was rather cute, so it made sense why she was the person who greeted people here. 

"You must be Aiba-san," she said. The lobby was deserted, but it was rather nice with some fancy looking ferns and a dark wood counter. It looked almost like any other hotel. She caught him looking around. "Yes, you definitely must be Aiba-san."

He was embarrassed. "Ah, sorry. First day."

"I'm Naka Riisa. I'm the first shift manager here at the hotel. At 4:00 PM second shift starts, and you'll see Murakami-kun at the desk. Just in case you come back and wonder where I went," she explained. "You've been in orientation all morning, let me just bring you to the dining room so you can grab some lunch."

"We can eat where the guests do?" he asked as her heels clicked on the tiled floor of the lobby. There was a bank of elevators down one hall that led up to the guest rooms and past that was a restaurant. 

"Staff should be available at any opportunity. To mingle with guests, that sort of thing," Naka-san explained. Aiba felt a little nervous when they entered. The room was bright and airy with large windows and a dozen tables covered in cheery yellow and white checkered tablecloths. There was a buffet table at the rear of the room. Staff bustled to and fro clearing dishes and bringing out new trays of food. Only two tables were occupied in the entire room: one with four guests, another with an employee sitting by himself.

"Where do I report after lunch?" he asked.

"Back to me," Naka-san said. "I'll get you all set up, don't worry. We aren't throwing you to the wolves."

Aiba watched the glum faces of the four guests at the table. There was classical music being piped in through some speakers, and their plates were nearly overflowing with savory looking meats, sushi, hamburgers, salads, almost everything Aiba could think of. One woman even had a plate full of cake and ice cream. Not one of them was touching their food, and they sat back in their chairs looking miserable.

"Okay, I'll come back when I'm done eating," he replied, his eyes itching a bit. No no no, he told himself. It was one of the most important rules from orientation. Don't cry in front of guests, even if you really feel like you need to.

Naka-san headed back for the lobby, and Aiba left the sad table of ladies behind. There was a man in a chef's uniform slicing up juicy steaks. He wondered how long the food sat out here if nobody was coming to eat it. He allowed the man to put a sirloin down on his plate, and he helped himself to some vegetables and a cheesy potato dish. He headed for the table where the other employee was sitting. Aiba tended toward the shy side with people he hadn't met, but if he was going to be working at Paradise Circus for the next ten years then it made sense to try and get along with the staff.

The man at the table was about his age, maybe a little older. He was smaller, too, with a round face and short black hair. He looked up when Aiba approached. He only looked marginally more happy than the guests at the table on the other side of the room.

"Hello," the man said.

"Hi, I'm a new employee," Aiba said, "do you mind if I sit with you?"

"That's fine, go ahead."

Aiba sat down, setting his napkin on his lap. His companion was eating some curry, and it smelled wonderful. It was amazing that the staff could eat the same food the guests could. Maybe it was a perk for hotel employees. "I'm Aiba Masaki, nice to meet you."

The man dug his spoon into his curry and rice. "Ohno Satoshi. Nice to meet you, too."

Ohno was obviously a very quiet person because as soon as the introductions were over he went right back to eating. Aiba was starving so he wasn't too worried about the lack of conversation. But once he got through his steak, he was itching to chat. It had been such a long morning of hand-cramping paperwork and videos that it felt good to interact with another human being.

"So where do you work?"

Ohno took a sip from his glass of beer. Another perk, Aiba guessed. "Swimming pool," he said, and Aiba thought his voice was a little soft, but very gentle. Good for dealing with guests. "I'm the lifeguard."

"Do a lot of guests use the pool?"

Ohno seemed to consider the question for longer than Aiba thought necessary. He set down his spoon, scratching his chin. "Depends on the weather. The Midway isn't much fun in the winter, so there's more people at the hotel then."

"Makes sense," Aiba said agreeably. Silence descended again. "How long have you been working here, Ohno-san?"

"Nine years, ten months," the man admitted.

"That means..."

Ohno nodded. "Two months to go."

Aiba looked down at his plate. Of course, the odds of being chosen were kind of rare. It was only one hundred people a day in a country of over a hundred million people. People died in car crashes every day. People died of diseases every day. But even so, Aiba had signed on the dotted line to keep his family out of the lottery. In two months, Ohno-san's contract would end, and his name would go right back into the computer along with the names of the people he'd put on his own list.

"I hope we can work well together," Aiba mumbled for lack of anything better to say. 

"Me too," Ohno said kindly. "Good luck to you, Aiba-san."

The man excused himself, leaving Aiba to finish his lunch alone. The only thing he could look at was the table of sad guests, and Aiba wolfed down his food to avoid having to watch them any longer. He found Naka-san at the front desk again, and she led him to a library on the opposite end of the hotel's ground floor.

"Normally Kanjiya-san works the first rotation. So she'll be here from the morning until 4:00 when there's the shift change. Then you'll come in and be in charge of the reading room until closing at 7:00 PM. That's when the guests go to their rooms."

Naka-san explained these things to him as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Aiba tried not to shiver at the thought. "That's a shorter shift than Kanjiya-san's," Aiba said.

"Yes, exactly, which is why at 7:00 PM we need you to work with the rest of the hotel staff to ensure everyone gets to their rooms. All the staff pitch in to tidy up the shared hotel spaces for the next day's guests. And after midnight..." He saw Naka-san's face finally change from her calm, direct manner to a more solemn look. "After midnight, we take care of the rooms and your shift should be done by 1:00 AM."

"I understand," Aiba said.

Naka-san smiled again, seeming in lifted spirits. "Well, Aiba-san, best of luck to you. We're very happy to have you. Do your very best for the guests. Your shift is over at 7:00. Kanjiya-san will take care of cleaning up the reading room today so you can go back to the Village and get yourself moved in. Just report promptly at 4:00 PM tomorrow for your first full shift."

She departed, and Aiba was left alone in the room. There were several plush couches and armchairs, and the room's large bay window had a view of the park and gardens to the north. Bookshelves circled the room, covering every inch of wall space. Aiba scanned the shelves, finding fiction and non-fiction books ranging from romance novels to computer manuals. Something for everyone. There were several end tables and coffee tables strewn with magazines and newspapers.

As his first official shift as a Paradise Circus employee began, Aiba Masaki wondered what book he would choose to read on his last day alive.

\---

Q: What does "1964" mean to you?

A: Truthfully? The Olympics. I mean, I was eight years old and my father and mother had saved up money to buy a television set so we could watch the games. I remember us all sitting around it during the summer, watching anything and everything since the Olympics weren't until October. It was an amazing thing, television, back in those days. Everything we'd heard about the war had been through the radio. And I honestly don't remember much. I mean, my parents told me what they could and they explained the Paradise Project in school, that from now on the country would be doing this so the majority could be safe. And it made a lot of sense when you're eight years old. It made a lot of sense to my parents, too. 

It's hard for people to understand today, it's a generational thing. My parents, they'd been through the 1940's. My father had been in Manchuria and everything. Hiroshima, Nagasaki, this was still so fresh in everyone's minds. It hadn't even been twenty years since then. They absolutely refused to let it happen again. Japan was only just getting back on its feet. To people who had seen that devastation first hand, the Paradise Project was the only logical solution.

So you ask about 1964, but you're not going to get an answer full of outrage from me. Nor from my parents' generation. To me, 1964 was our first TV and the Olympics. It was a relatively happy time.

From _Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement_ , Interview - Kuwata Keisuke.

\---

His theater had finally switched over to digital. Since The Vista wasn't one of those megaplex chain cinemas with the jumbo screens and the 3-D or IMAX movies, it had been slow to change. "We live and breathe 35 mm," the sign in the lobby had announced since the day Nino had started working there, and he'd gotten used to doing things the old-fashioned way.

Checking the quality of the prints the distributors sent, getting the reels put together with the government -mandated short films and trailers for other movies, lacing the film through the projector. It taught him respect, it taught him patience. But Taichi-san had finally "seen the light" and made the conversion. Now they got sent entire films on a separate drive. There were no scratches to worry about, no ruining his eyes as he got the reels together. There was just the hard drive and the projector and Nino there to press the button and queue things up.

There was very little romance to it now, but so long as Nino still had a job at The Vista he didn't mind. Digital meant that Taichi-san only had to pay for one projectionist to migrate between the three auditoriums since the computer did most of the work. Nino had the most seniority, so he'd gotten to stick around.

He liked his job. Even if the movies themselves sucked more often than not, it gave him lots of time alone, a freedom few other jobs granted him. He could stare out into the darkened auditorium as the movie played, memorizing the moments when the audience would laugh or cry or shriek in fear. He compared packed houses on the weekends to the sparse morning shows with only a few bored housewives or old folks in attendance. Would they laugh as hard this time? Cry as hard? He envied their ability to forget everything and get lost in a movie for two hours.

Auditorium 1 had finally gotten the new Andy Lau movie in. The downside of not being a megaplex chain meant that The Vista wasn't that high on the priority list for the newest foreign films. It had been out a month at the megaplexes, and as he set up the digital projector that afternoon he noticed that the house was mostly empty. Mostly hardcore fangirls. Correction, he noted with a smile. Fan... _ladies_ , maybe ten or twelve tops in tiny clusters. It was time for the 2:00 PM screening, and the housewives were positively giddy in anticipation.

There was new Andy Lau and with it the newest government film to queue up at the beginning. It was the fiftieth anniversary of the war this year, a big deal. Obviously worth sinking a few million yen into another five minute fluff piece with lots of smiling faces. 

"I'm happy to live in a Japan that's free!" cried a classroom full of kids in Akita. "Paradise Circus means I have a job, a livelihood," explained an office worker in Osaka. "The sacrifices of the few help the rest of us enjoy peace," said an old woman on an Okinawa beach, the waves lapping at her ankles. Picturesque. Perfect.

Every time Nino saw the file sitting on the hard drive the urge to delete it nearly overtook him. How easy it would be to just trash it, tell Taichi-san there was a computer error. They were digital now, after all. These things could happen. It was never possible in the old days when Nino had to feed the propaganda bullshit straight into the projector like a good little boy.

But the housewives were waiting, he thought with a bitter chuckle. Projector warmed up and ready, he set the government film in motion so everyone could ooh and aah and go "wow, has it really been fifty years?" Fifty since the war, forty-eight since Paradise. He set up the trailers, five of them, then hit the Andy Lau file with his finger. What a good little boy.

Set-up complete, he left the projectionist booth and made it to Auditorium 3 just in time to help Yamada-kun sweep up after the 12:20 show let out. The kid had only just finished high school, but university didn't seem to be looming on the horizon. After Yamada tossed him a black trash bag, Nino headed up to the back row to start hunting down stray popcorn bags and cups.

"Hey Ninomiya-senpai," the kid called to him from the front of the house.

_Senpai_ , Nino thought derisively. "Yeah?"

"I was talking with a friend. About joining the Self-Defense Force."

Nino nearly tipped over a jumbo-sized soda, snatching it up with his fingers just before it fell. "Sure beats scraping gum off the floor here."

Yamada laughed. "I guess you could say that. I was thinking the Air branch. Could you see me flying a plane?"

No, Nino thought. I can't see you throwing your life away for a slim to none chance. "Can't hurt to try, right?"

Nino headed down to the next row where the theater's guests had proven even more disgusting than the folks sitting behind them. Ground, Air, Maritime. They locked you in for twenty years, turned you into a robot. And yet...

"I think it would be badass to fly a plane," Yamada rambled on in a way Nino himself might have when he was eighteen. Of course, that was ten years ago. A lot could happen in ten years.

Once the theater was clean, Yamada headed off to tear tickets, brain full of brilliant ideas and dreams. Nino wasn't sure if he envied or pitied the kid, really. Auditorium 3 had a 3:00 PM screening of Toda Erika's movie, I Still Remember. It was one of those historical pieces, and she was playing someone whose whole family had been killed in America in '62 and went on to volunteer for Paradise. They'd been showing it for nearly a month now, so Nino had almost all her lines memorized. 

"For my mother, for my father. For all of Japan," Erika always said at the end. It was the line that really got the tissues out of the pack.

He wondered if Toda Erika felt like a fraud, having to promote such a joke of a movie. Nobody fucking volunteered for Paradise.

\---

The newsroom was buzzing when Sho arrived, setting his bag on his desk. He'd probably packed more than he needed for an overnight. As soon as tonight's broadcast ended, he needed to get to Haneda for a flight down to Kagoshima. Tomorrow was an interview with a ninety-five year old woman. Manabe-san, he reminded himself. Ninety-five years old and the oldest person selected for Paradise Circus in almost three years. The kind of interview Sho daydreamed about.

He left his bag behind, finding Producer Kimura in the break room watching a new pot of coffee birth itself before their eyes. The man was completely enraptured by the steady drip drip drip, and Sho wanted to laugh at him. But it wasn't exactly a workplace made for laughter. There'd been so many calls and positive comments after the Higashiyama segment the other night, and it was on the producers to try and come up with something just as interesting. But it wasn't every day that a celebrity was chosen in the lottery.

"Kimura-san," Sho interrupted him. "How are we looking tonight?"

The man sighed, looking away from the coffee. "Bunch of nobodies last night, bunch of nobodies tonight. I swear, there's never any coming back after a celebrity tribute."

Sho bit the inside of his cheek. He hoped he'd never get to a place as bitter as where Kimura seemed to reside. Sho was always more interested in talking to normal people, but celebrities brought ratings. Celebrities, athletes, politicians - their selection kept the system in place, his father always told him.

"Tomorrow's interview, I think it'll be helpful," Sho said, opening the refrigerator to retrieve a yogurt he'd stuck there the night before. Kimura was finally getting his precious coffee.

"Helpful," Kimura murmured as he poured some coffee into his mug. "Helpful doesn't cut it."

Sho ducked out of the break room with his sad excuse for dinner in hand, spoon in his mouth. Great. He was taking a late night flight with the guy in several hours, and Kimura was already in a mood. He got back to his desk, overhearing the usual newsroom chatter. A forest fire in Hokkaido, a murder in Yokohama, the usual domestic beat. 

He remembered a time when he'd been so bored covering the domestic beat, how reporting live from yet another local festival was a waste of his time. The international desk was where he belonged. At least that was what he'd thought back then. And then the man who'd read the names had retired, and Sho had received his promotion. Now he was the face of Paradise Circus. Everyone in the street knew exactly who he was now. Sakurai Sho and the Freedom segment. Sakurai Sho, the man who read the names.

While staff raced around and the production crew finalized everything for the nightly broadcast in the studio, Sho sat at his desk reading the names over and over. There could be no greater insult than to read a name incorrectly. They were double and triple checked to ensure that he had all the information he needed. Name, age, city. Sakurai Sho, 30, Tokyo. He wondered who'd read his name if they ever called him. 

The sun set, and Sho whispered each name again and again. Tonight's highlighted hero was Morita Aya-san from Shimonoseki. A junior high school teacher, married, three children. They'd cue the montage of pictures. Morita-san and her students, Morita-san at a family gathering. 

They usually let Sho go through the list and make the choice. Unless, of course, there was a celebrity called - then they got singled out no matter how many deserving people made up the other ninety-nine. The producers did the initial calls, getting in contact with the family or the person themselves. "We'd like to honor you on our broadcast. Could you part with some photographs?" After that, Sho followed up with questions of his own, figured out the most logical angle. That angle being one Producer Kimura would sign off on.

Kimura had vetoed him on a cabaret girl before. Too controversial. He'd gotten vetoed on a deadbeat father, a teenage delinquent, a convicted rapist. "But we call them all heroes," Sho usually argued. "Everyone should have an equal chance."

Kimura usually smiled in the way that made Sho's stomach turn. "We don't feature people that others are happy to be rid of."

With some time to spare before wardrobe and makeup, Sho checked and re-checked his bag. Two books for the flight - he usually slept through red-eye flights, but he was a creature of habit. An extra dress shirt, five different ties. Whatever worked best with the colors inside Manabe-san's home. Location shoots always made him nervous. He was used to just reading the names. It was always strange to meet them before they became a name on the air. 

He had to anticipate how they'd react. Would they cry? Would they hold on to him? Would they say nothing at all? After all, he was the man who read the names. He was the kiss of death.

"Sho-kun."

Murao-san's hand on his shoulder made him jump, and the older man laughed at him. "Ah, Murao-san, I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who startled you," Murao said. There weren't too many people Sho could talk to about the burdens of his job, but Murao had mentored him for his entire tenure in the Freedom segment. The man had anchored the evening broadcast for over twenty years with a calm air and a finesse that Sho envied and desperately wanted to emulate.

"I was just about to head over to wardrobe."

"I'll walk with you," Murao said. 

"I'm going down to Kagoshima. Ninety-five year old woman," Sho explained as they navigated their way out of the newsroom.

"Ninety-five!" Murao replied. "Wonderful. I bet she'll have an amazing perspective."

Let's hope so, Sho thought to himself. Of course Kimura and the rest of the production staff had called and spoken with Manabe-san's family. They'd been assured that the old woman was still sharp. Sho wouldn't be showing up to find an invalid in a hospital bed drooling, Kimura had said.

"Do you think you'll make it to ninety-five, Murao-san?"

"Hmm," he mused aloud. "I wonder. If I'm in decent health, it would be nice, but if I'm sickly, I hope not. How about you, Sho-kun?"

"Sixty-five years from now," Sho said. "I wonder what the world will be like then?"

Would there still be names to read? If that was the world in sixty-five years, Sho definitely hoped he'd be dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Kindness: it's contagious! 

Use polite language with guests at all times. Remember that each guest is someone's son or daughter, husband or wife, brother or sister, father or mother. See the person behind the hero, and treat them with respect and dignity.

From the _Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual_ , Chapter Three: Conduct Around Guests.

\---

It was a pointless exercise, fishing debris out of the water, but Ohno usually preferred the more pointless tasks of his job. Having a steady routine made the days go smoothly. Maru had said only two people had been in the water during his shift, and there'd been none during Ohno's shift. It was a decent day, a little overcast, but most people had probably been out at the Midway. So he wasn't likely to find anything. Surely Maru would have caught it before there'd been the shift change.

But it was calming to walk along the edge of the pool, bare feet on the cool tile. It was completely dry since nobody had jumped or even eased their way into the water in almost six hours. He walked at a steady pace, tapping the pole end of the net against the floor with his usual thunk thunk thunk. The sound of it echoed off the walls as the hand on the wall clock continued around. It had just hit 7:00 PM. Cleaning time.

He walked the length of the pool, thunk thunk thunking every few meters or so. Once he'd completed his circuit, finding absolutely nothing that needed to be fished out, he headed for the supply closet and dragged the reel with the pool cover along. He hummed quietly to himself as he set up the reel, activating the motor to get the cover moving across the water. Ohno helped guide the cover along, securing it at the opposite end. Sometimes he wondered what it would feel like to lie in the middle of the cover, if it would be like a waterbed or something.

Once the pool was covered he slipped his sandals on and got to work in the shower room, spraying it down with the hose and walking through the chemically soapy water. He could probably lie, initial the sheet and say he'd thoroughly scrubbed down the facilities, but the earlier he left his own tasks the more he had to help clean up the rest of the hotel. It was far easier to deal with the chemical smell or clean someone's hair out of a drain than to listen to the people in the hallways who wouldn't go into their rooms. 

Ohno understood the last-minute panic. After nine years of it he thought he'd be used to it, the sound of the staff coaxing people into their rooms, the obvious commotion outside the hotel as some guests tried to elude the staff and the Self-Defense guys. But 7:00 PM came every night, and the staff psychologists always said it was the "bargaining" stage, that it was normal. 

"Hey there!"

Ohno turned with the hose in hand, nearly slipping on the tile at the sight of the person who'd joined him in the shower room. He accidentally sprayed the guy's slacks and shoes, wincing before he managed to get the thing off. "I'm sorry."

The guy was drenched from the waist down, scratching his hair in annoyance. "Ah, crap! I knew I should have waited until you were done."

Now that Ohno had turned the hose off and was completely out of cleaning mode, he recognized the guy. "From lunchtime...Aiba-san?"

He grinned despite being covered in soap. "I was heading back to the Village, but I thought I'd say hi."

Ohno sloshed through the water a bit to hang the hose back up. "I'm really sorry."

"No, it's alright. My fault. Is your shift over?"

He shook his head. "No, once I clean the pool I help everyone else..." He stared at the new employee curiously. "But uh, do you need help or something?"

Aiba had a kind face, and Ohno was kind of sad to see him. People never really knew what they were getting into when they signed on at Paradise Circus, and Ohno knew that as well as anyone. He wondered how long it would be before Aiba's kindness became depression, or worse, apathy. 

"Well, I could use a change of clothes. And some dinner, but I don't have any food yet. I was kind of hoping I could find someone back in the Village I could eat with, I mean, I'd pay them back of course. But if you have things to do here..."

He was supposed to be checking rooms with the rest of the staff, cleaning up some of the furniture from the patio outside, but Aiba was new. Ohno was probably the last person anyone needed as a mentor, and returning to the Village early was always frowned upon. But he could always write it off as helping a new employee get settled.

"Just let me wrap things up, okay?"

Aiba, still dripping wet, smiled and exited the shower room, leaving Ohno to finish up his duties. Once he was done cleaning, he changed out of his trunks and sandals and into his jeans and sneakers. He initialed the board - it was just his and Maru's initials most of the time anyhow, it wasn't like people checked up on them much - and found Aiba waiting for him. They headed out one of the rear staff entrances. The last thing they needed to do was head out through the lobby especially when it was lockdown time.

They wandered down the grassy slope, and the sun had already set. They heard a horrible scream come from the direction of the Midway, and Aiba grabbed hold of his arm in terror. "What the hell was that?" the guy asked him, seeming unashamed of his fright.

You know what that is, Ohno wanted to say, but what was the point in being mean? Again, it was Aiba-san's very first day. He hadn't done this for nine long years of his life yet. "Someone doesn't want to go to their room," he said in reply, and Aiba let him go.

"I see."

They continued the walk to the Village in silence, finally spotting the lights on in the various houses. Ohno had lived in House 3 for all nine years. Sometimes people swapped to other buildings if they started dating someone or if they didn't get along with their housemates, but Ohno never had. His room was comfortable, and everything was in its right place. Let everyone else move, he figured.

"I'm in House 7," Aiba said, gesturing across the lawn to one of the other buildings. "What about you?"

"Number 3."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"Why don't you go change and come to the House 3 kitchen? I'll make some dinner."

Aiba found that agreeable, and as the Self-Defense Force patrolled the grounds and the last howling guests were herded into the hotel, Ohno rummaged through his cupboard space and fridge space. There were a lot of first shift people in the house, so their dinner dishes were piled up in the sink. Ohno wasn't used to being home so early, but he managed to find a clean wok in Maru's cupboard and got to work. Concentrating on cooking was just as easy as concentrating on cleaning the pool. There was a set routine.

Aiba knocked on the glass outside, waving at Ohno in the kitchen. He gestured for Aiba to come on inside, and he looked even more like a nervous newbie out of his work uniform. "I made fried rice, I hope that's okay," Ohno explained, turning off the burner and digging through Maru's cupboard for some clean plates. Maru was always more diligent about dishes than Ohno was anyhow. 

"My parents own a Chinese restaurant. Fried rice is more than okay."

It was the second meal they'd shared that day, and Aiba seemed exhausted. Ohno knew they started orientation earlier and earlier to avoid it clashing too much with guest arrivals. It was just after 8:00 PM when the siren in the courtyard went off.

Aiba looked up at him, confused.

"They sound it when all the guests are in their rooms. They'll sound it again just after midnight. When all the guests are...well..."

Aiba's face turned pale.

"You get used to it," Ohno explained calmly, even as his heart raced. You never got used to it.

\---

They were probably sounding the siren by now, Jun thought as he settled down at the living room table with his plate. He had first rotation again in the morning, so it was kind of a late dinner for him. But through no fault of his own. He'd gotten home at 1730 hours after hitting the gym, punching the bag to clear his head. But the apartment had been empty so he'd delayed dinner for an hour to wait. And then another hour before his stomach had started to rumble.

There was nothing on TV tonight, but they'd been showing reruns of some drama from the 90s that Higashiyama Noriyuki had been in. It was like all of the TV stations in the Tokyo area were trying to outdo one another with their tributes to him, airing every single drama the guy'd appeared in, every single movie. Channel One had even gotten the rights to air some videotaped stage play Higashiyama had done in the 80s. Jun settled on a cooking show, envying the chefs as he dug into his pasta with canned sauce. The lateness of his meal had made him settle for something boring and overly processed.

He was just finishing up when he heard the key in the lock, and he turned the volume down on the TV as the door opened. "I'm late, I know. I'm really sorry."

Jun shrugged, even though it would be obvious to anyone how irritated he was. "There's plenty left to heat up. Should microwave fine."

"Ah, I already ate."

He got to his feet, grabbing his plate and heading for the sink. Typical. "There's nothing on TV. You can go ahead and play if you want to."

Nino was hanging his jacket up in the closet, looking embarrassed. "I said I'm sorry. I didn't know you were going to cook anything."

Jun turned the sink on. "I'll put some in a container. You can bring it for lunch tomorrow."

"Jun-kun, really..."

"Look," he said, interrupting him as the water grew hot on his fingers as he scrubbed his plate with the sponge. "Just send me a message next time. It takes ten seconds, and then I won't wonder where you are."

"I was working late," Nino insisted. But then again, Jun thought, Nino had been working late a lot the past few months. He was pretty sure Nino was a decent employee, but the hole-in-the-wall movie theater couldn't possibly need him to work overtime this much. Not with the way Nino had described his miserly boss.

It was pointless to speculate about what Nino had actually been up to. If he had drinks with friends, he came home smelling like beer and smoke. If he went to the arcade, he came home smelling like sweat. He never came home smelling like he'd been intimate with anyone else, never any telltale signs like someone else's cologne or freshly showered from a quick stop at a love hotel. Nino was loyal as far as Jun knew, and they hadn't been together long enough for Jun to really insist upon it.

Jun just hated being kept in the dark.

He felt Nino in his space then, thin but warm with his arm around Jun's middle. "Let me wash the dishes for you. You need to sleep."

"I know I need to sleep."

"I'm trying to avoid a fight here," Nino said, shutting the faucet off.

Jun turned to look at him. Nino was shorter than him, but what he lacked in size he made up for in his attitude and in his eyes. And his eyes were insisting that he was sorry. Jun was used to the military life, to everything having clear cut reasoning and order. Nino was the only disorder he allowed himself, and even after two years it still drove him crazy.

He bent down, opening the cabinet under the sink to pull out a brand new box of scouring pads. He set it down on the countertop with emphasis. "Use these on the pan, or I _will_ kill you."

"You can probably kill me in a hundred ways," Nino said with his eyebrow raised. "It's why I like you so much."

The tension vanished as it always did. Or as Jun always allowed it to.

He headed for their bedroom, shedding his clothes and slipping under the covers. Nino would stay up late with his nerdy little headset on, blowing people's heads off in whatever game he was into now. Jun had to content himself with the scent of Nino in the sheets and on the pillowcases, drifting off for a few hours of peace before it started all over again.

\---

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT  
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST  
FREEDOM SEGMENT  
AIRED 17 APRIL 2012 - 23:16-23:25

MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: It's time for Sakurai Sho with the nightly Freedom segment of our broadcast. Sakurai-san, good evening.

SAKURAI SHO, CORRESPONDENT: Good evening, Murao-san.

MURAO: Yesterday's heroes have brought us this new day, and we honor them.

SAKURAI: We certainly do, Murao-san. In less than forty minutes another group of heroes will join the brave men, women, and children who came before them. Tonight I'd like to highlight the contributions of one of yesterday's heroes, Morita Aya. 

(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)

SAKURAI: (narration) Morita Aya-san was born and raised in Shimonoseki, Yamaguchi Prefecture. For the past fifteen years, Morita-san has taught mathematics at Yumegaoka Junior High School where she was named Teacher of the Year four years in a row...

\---

Ohno-san had had a bottle of tequila in his room. It was against protocol. Beer was okay, but hard liquor was frowned upon at least while they were living in the Village. But Ohno had told him that everyone broke protocol. "As long as everyone who has to die at midnight dies, who cares?" Ohno had said, and Aiba was glad he was drunk enough to let the man's remark roll off him.

Ohno had passed out in the room, and Aiba had helped him into bed, pulling a blanket over him. He half-stumbled down the steps and out of House 3. The night was pitch black, and there was only some sparse lighting in the courtyard. He tried counting the buildings to figure out which one was his, but every time he tried to remember a number past five he lost count.

It was his first day, the end of his first day, and he was kind of a mess. But there was plenty of light up on the hill coming from the hotel. Sober Aiba would have gone straight to his room, but Drunken Aiba wasn't having it. Not yet. He needed to know, needed to see for himself.

The top floors were mostly dark for now. Ohno had explained it to him over dinner, the stuff that was only alluded to in orientation. It was probably why the night had led to tequila anyhow. 7:00 PM was when free rein on the grounds ended, and all the employees on second shift mobilized to get all 100 guests in their rooms. It was absolutely necessary because the rooms were soundproofed and sealed for good at 9:00. 

The time between lockdown and 9:00 was when dinner trays were brought up. Some tried to get out then, too, but that's why the staff member bringing the dinner was always accompanied by someone from the Self-Defense Force. So the meals were dropped off, and they were all sealed up inside. They weren't like prison cells, though, Ohno said. They were hotel rooms with nice beds and bathrooms and TV sets. 

Nobody got frisked on the buses or when they arrived. So Ohno explained that some ended it early with a razor or pills they'd smuggled in with them. It was messier, of course, but what did it matter? Otherwise sleeping gas was piped in to each room around 11:30 PM before the other gas at midnight. Quick, painless, efficient.

Aiba stumbled into the hotel lobby. Murakami Shingo-kun who had replaced Naka-san at the front desk was gone. He was out of uniform, drunk, and alone, and he headed for the reading room. He'd done a half-assed job of tidying up earlier that evening before wandering off and finding Ohno-san in the pool. He'd wanted to get the hell out and get back to the Village. But now he was back, the urge to be in the building when it happened overwhelming him.

That morning he'd signed all the forms, full of coffee and pastries and feeling proud of himself as he'd written down his mother and father and brother and sister-in-law. So it was worth it, right? It was worth it because he was doing it for their sake, doing it so they'd have a ten year reprieve. Ten years without the possibility of them ending up in one of the rooms on the floors above him, frightened and terribly, horribly alone at the very end.

And for the next ten years, Aiba would be here on these grounds, in this hotel, perpetual witness to the execution of one hundred people every day so Japan might remain free.

He was sobbing by the time he made it to the reading room, vision blurry and snot running down his face as he stumbled against the doorframe. He wasn't alone. There was a young woman in the room on a step-stool, placing a book up on one of the higher shelves. First shift in the reading room, Kanjiya-san.

She hopped off the stool, and Aiba's head was swimming as he sunk down to the floor. She was in uniform (his was still soapy and soaked and he'd just left it in his tub, he thought wearily), the sweater vest and skirt. She had dark hair piled up in a messy little bun on top of her head, and when she crouched down next to him, there were two of her until he blinked a few times. She had dark, beautiful eyes. He suddenly wanted to get very, very lost in them.

"My goodness," she said sternly. "Aiba-san."

"How...how did you..."

"Aiba-san," she grumbled. "You can't be here like this, someone will see."

"I want to know," he slurred at her, seeing her recoil a bit in disgust at the smell of alcohol on his breath. "I wanted to be here."

"You'll have ten years of this," she said, sounding a little kinder. "Believe me."

"I should help you with the books..."

"I can finish the books in the morning." She got back to her feet and held out her hand. "Come on, you have to go to the Village."

"No," he mumbled.

"They've fired people for less than this, and then where the hell would you be, huh?" she said. "Come on, up. Up, I said."

He took her hand, and she hauled him up with a groan. He towered over her, but he learned that looks could be deceiving because she was already pulling him along, hand tight around his wrist.

"I want to see."

"No," she said. "You don't."

Then they were outside again, and he was embarrassed. Ohno-san was supposed to be on the second shift, but he'd left early and made Aiba dinner. And now Kanjiya-san, who was filling in for what would eventually be Aiba's job, was leaving her own post. He was not exactly making good first impressions on his co-workers.

"We're in the same house," she said, having no trouble navigating them down to the Village and getting the door open. Thankfully there was nobody in the kitchen, and they headed up the stairs, her grip on him never loosening. He realized why she was so strong. Ohno-san was probably stronger than he looked too. Second shift had to help clean up the rooms after midnight. 

They'd gotten strong carrying body bags.

He nearly threw up at the thought, but Kanjiya-san was a woman on a mission, and she dragged him right to his door. "For future reference, that's me," she said, nodding her head at the door just opposite his. Well, that certainly explained why she knew exactly where he lived. "Key?"

"Uhhh..."

"Well. Pardon me then," she said before boldly shoving her hand in the pocket of his jeans and finding his key with little trouble. She managed to get the door open, and he managed not to lose his dinner all over her. "In, you can do it."

He stumbled over to his bed, landing hard on his stomach. His room was still an unpacked mess on account of his evening with Ohno-san, but everything was spinning and he didn't much care. He could worry about that in the morning.

She was sitting on the floor next to his bed, staring at him a moment later. "Aiba-san."

"Mmm?"

"4:00 PM tomorrow. Don't be late."

"Yes," he muttered.

"No more tequila on a work night, you hear me?"

"Yes."

And suddenly the room was dark, and she was gone. The siren went off in the courtyard again, and this time he knew what it meant.

\---

In the first few years of his contract, he'd done a lot more with his days off. It was always strange to leave the Village and the barbed wire behind, to turn his back on Paradise Circus and rejoin society. Even now he still felt like more of a tourist than anything else. In the early days he'd go all the way into the city, catch a movie, find a cozy enough bar. Sometimes his days off coincided with someone else's from work, and they'd try to get him to go places. 

His male co-workers would drag him to the clubs in Roppongi. They'd say "Oh-chan, all we have to say is where we work, and they'll have sex with us, I guarantee it." And it was usually true. He'd picked up dozens of girls that way, and he'd only been more annoyed once he got back inside the barbed wire. It wasn't like they could follow him back. It was hard to get a second date when you only got let out two days a month. None of it went anywhere. Sex with strangers lost its appeal after a few years.

And female co-workers were worse. They already knew where he worked, so they wanted to be wined and dined. They'd say "Oh-chan, I want to forget for a little while," and even if a nice dinner ended with a hotel visit, the next day they'd be in uniform, eyes meeting across the room as they cleaned up a dead person's belongings. Needless to say, one of the things Ohno looked forward to the most when his contract ended was a normal relationship. 

He'd never actually realized how appealing it would be to see the same woman day in, day out with no baggage, just love and companionship. To wake up in the morning, go to work, come home and have someone waiting there to greet him. He supposed this was the life Paradise Circus made possible in the first place. It still came at a hefty price.

So now on his days off, Ohno didn't let a co-worker rope him in. He did some grocery shopping, went fishing if he could. He'd been 21 when he'd signed on, and his parents always welcomed him home. The house was exactly the same, preserved in time, his bedroom too. His parents shared a similar life philosophy - if you're comfortable, don't change a thing.

Today was a day off, and his mother was making sukiyaki while his father sat in the living room watching golf. Even when his job was frustrating, even when his job was horrifying, he knew that his mom and dad were safe. Being home confirmed it all the more. If they felt grateful for what he'd done, signing up for Paradise Circus, they'd never said so aloud. It didn't really need to be said.

But his parents could read a calendar. Even if time in the Ohno household seemed to have stopped, the outside world hadn't. He had two months left, four days off. It seemed like his mother cooked him nicer and nicer meals when he stopped by. As if his contract would end and the very next day the letter would arrive in the mailbox. It wasn't likely, not statistically, but even so, the directionless kid who'd given up on art school would be home soon for good. A 31 year old lifeguard with little ambition.

"Satoshi," his mother said, her voice drifting from the kitchen along with the delicious smell of a home-cooked meal. "I can get you some boxes next time to take back if you need some boxes."

"That's okay," he called back. "They'll have boxes at work."

Soon he'd have to think about packing up his room in House 3. Not that he had much. Some of his housemates really went to town on decorating their spaces, making it home. They had book shelves and hot plates and drawers full of clothes. Ohno figured he could get everything into two or three boxes, tops. 

He wondered what it would be like to live in his parents' house again. He had little choice in the matter. He was paid decently enough, so it wasn't a matter of not having the means to get his own place somewhere. But after living so long surrounded by other people, sharing kitchen space and having staff to clean his bathroom and vacuum his room, he doubted he was ready for any measure of independence. And given the current state of his room here at home, he could move right back in as though nothing had changed.

"Food is ready!"

He set down his sketchpad, just as blank as it had been two hours ago when he'd thought to pass the time with doodling, and followed his father to the dining room.

Dinner was usually a quiet affair when it was his day off. It was kind of like his parents just enjoyed having him at the table with them, sharing the meal together. Ohno liked it that way too. Sometimes he zoned out, worried about stuff he had to do once he got back to work, but other times he really paid attention. He'd stare at his mother's steady hands as she spooned out portions onto his dad's plate and his before ever serving herself. He watched the way his dad's jaw moved while he munched on something a little too chewy. 

He wondered if they watched him too, wondered if they remembered him how he was before he left. He'd been grouchy, selfish. He'd barely finished high school through a correspondence program, had only gotten accepted to art school on talent, but everyone else at school always cared more than he did. They wanted to stay late and focus. He only did art for fun, not a career. He never knew what had really compelled him to go to the government office that day, to ask for an application. And he wondered what the hell they'd seen in him that made him look like a decent enough candidate for Paradise.

After almost ten years, he still had no idea.

"Would you like some more barley tea, Satoshi?"

He blinked, seeing his mother's patient face as she held out her hand for his glass.

"Ah, sure."

When dinner was done, he bid his parents farewell, taking the long walk back to the train station. His family lived to the west of Nerima, far from the center of Tokyo where they rounded people up. No matter where you lived in Japan, you had to report to the Shinjuku bus terminal at the date and time noted on the letter. It had to be weird working anywhere near there, seeing the people boarding the buses there early in the morning. His parents, luckily, were far from that. Paradise didn't touch them much aside from the nightly news or the list of names in the paper.

The train car was half empty, and he stood with his hand loosely holding the plastic ring overhead. Japan was such a normal country otherwise. The trains ran, people commuted to and from their jobs. Kids went to school, art school even if they really cared. And people like Ohno got off the train, picked up a few things from the grocery store, and phoned for an escort - the Self-Defense Force jeep arrived in ten minutes to take him back behind the barbed wire for another two weeks.

\---

Q: What foreign language did you take in school?

A: I have to say, I went to a fairly liberal high school in the late 1980's. Some of my friends were stuck between the usual Mandarin and Russian at their schools, but they let us try Cantonese, Korean. It was a good school, too, and lots of graduates went on to Todai, Waseda, the really big name universities. So having that diversity was interesting.

As for me, I went with Russian. I was a little naive back then, and I thought if I was this master of Russian and Japanese that I could go places. The Soviets were starting to undergo regime change then, so we all thought that maybe we'd be allowed to go to Moscow, to Leningrad for some work study. We thought things would ease up. The economy was really taking off here. Japan had a lot to offer the world, maybe the Big Two would see that in us. 

We were all ambitious, us kids graduating then. We'd been so diligent as a people, hadn't we? Twenty-five years of Paradise without fail, so there'd been no Soviet bombs. No Chinese bombs. We weren't fighting back, we hadn't ever fought back. But it didn't matter. The bubble burst, the government didn't dare rock the boat, and here we are now. Still offering daily sacrifices to these superpowers who don't give a damn about us.

Q: You don't think the Chinese or Russian governments would do anything if Paradise stopped? You don't think they'd carry out their threats against us?

A: After fifty years? Of course they don't care. They probably laugh themselves silly knowing we're still offering up lives to them. We're the only ones not in on the joke here. It's like we're dogs at the pound, doing any tricks we can, giving paw and rolling over in the hopes we don't all get put down. 

But it's been a no-kill shelter for years, and we aren't willing to believe it.

From _Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement_ , Interview - Hatori Shinichi.

\---

It had started off as a joke. This star-crossed, forbidden love shit. He wished he'd never said anything, wished he'd never even hinted about what Jun did for a living. It was probably a bad idea to go drinking with members of the shadowy underground organization you were a member of, an even worse idea to drop the bomb that the person you were seeing worked for the Self-Defense Force.

Of course, at first he hadn't expected the thing with Jun to go anywhere. He wasn't out, for one thing, not that a lot of people were, but Jun was especially not out because he didn't dare jeopardize his position. So Nino had thought that they'd meet up like old buddies, do one of those cloak and dagger routines to avoid being seen entering the same hotel, and then get off at the thought of how well they'd avoided getting caught. And then they'd grow tired of each other and would go their separate ways, start up the closeted song and dance with someone else down the line.

It hadn't worked that way. Jun was different. He wasn't "the one" or anything. Nino had never been sentimental enough to think like that about anyone he'd ever been in a relationship with, but Jun was pretty damn close. For one thing, Nino had never been interested in shacking up with someone he was seeing. He liked to keep romance and personal time separate. 

But within a year, he found himself wanting to wake up and see Jun there. Wanted to know that he could go to work and have all the alone time he wanted and then go home to expend all his social energy with the one person who (mostly) understood him. Jun was obviously a soldier stereotype, meticulous and careful and always thinking about what he had to do next where Nino had always been better at letting things happen as they may. And yet Jun didn't seem to care. Jun didn't try to change him. Sure, he offered "helpful suggestions" but he mostly let Nino be.

Jun cooked. Jun cleaned. Jun was just a genuinely kind person, way more than Nino deserved. So Nino had made the mistake of bragging about him one night, about his special someone in the Self-Defense Force and now it was a huge problem.

Because Jun had gotten his promotion, and somehow they'd all found out. They'd hit the jackpot, hadn't they? They hated everything Paradise Circus stood for. They'd worked tirelessly for years to find a way to crack the system, to find a way in the gates. And now one of their members was living with someone who worked on the inside.

He was on his way to a gathering now after work. Three showings of Toda Erika's I Still Remember had filled him with his usual rage, and he was all set to denounce the government with the rest. It was how it had been forever, lots of talking and little action. But now when he showed up there'd be eyes on him, people staring. "That's Ninomiya, that's the one who can get us in."

So for eight months they'd hounded him, asked him if Jun talked about work. It was bad enough that Nino hid this from Jun and had been hiding this part of himself from the beginning. The police and the Self-Defense Force were always trying to track down the Japan Will Rise Again movement. Hell, it had only been five years ago that a huge ring had been busted in Nagoya, trying to send in their own associates in place of some of the Paradise Circus "guests." It was the worst thing the Risers had done since the 90's when there'd been the plot to blow up Hamamatsucho bus terminal, keep the buses from going out to the Circus. They'd moved transport to Shinjuku and quadrupled the security.

Now they met in pockets, yammering and bitching and full of righteous anger towards a system they couldn't change. By being a member, Nino was breaking the law. And in the last eight months he'd become a full-blown hypocrite. He denounced Paradise in daylight and fucked someone who enforced it by night. 

He wasn't sure why he still bothered to go. They'd keep pestering him, begging for any snippets of info. Even something as mundane as the names of any co-workers Jun mentioned. He was increasingly frustrated. Paradise had to stop. There was no point. The Russians had calmed down, maybe the Chinese would one of these years. They didn't need to be appeased any longer. If it was anyone else in the organization involved with someone that close to Paradise, he would be calling for blood too. In all these years they'd never gotten anyone embedded, and the ones who'd tried had disappeared and never come back.

So if Nino followed his mind, followed logic, followed his unwavering belief that Paradise Circus was an unnecessary institution, that Japan was not going to be nuked into nothingness by the Big Two if they ended it - if he followed that, it only made sense to exploit his relationship with Jun. But for the past eight months, Nino had followed his heart, had let whatever Jun was to him mean more than everything else he stood for, had fought for. 

And it frightened him.

Maybe that was why he kept going. Maybe if he let them nag him enough he'd give in, start pressing Jun for little bits of information. He was already a liar. The relationship was out of balance, and Jun was starting to notice. Nino was staying out more, attending more gatherings, and Jun was getting hurt. If he actually loved Jun, he'd break up with him instead of lying to him over and over again.

He walked through the door, seeing they had a decent crowd tonight. Thirty, maybe fifty people wandered around in suits and nametags. Nino had to wear a dinky vest and black slacks for work at the Vista, and it was as close as he had to a suit that wasn't the one he wore to funerals. He wrote "Higashiyama Noriyuki" on his name tag with a Sharpie and tossed the marker back on the table.

Everybody knew who he was. Even if he didn't know everyone else at the gatherings, he had some measure of infamy now. And the name tags and suits meant that if the cops busted in there was nothing to arrest them for. This was, after all, just a job fair. Even now a woman walked by with a briefcase, handing out fake resumes to everyone so they'd have some in hand during the meeting.

It was always informal on account of how half-assed they were as a social movement. Nagoya had taken the wind out of their sails, the senior members were growing older and didn't give two shits if they were picked in the lottery, and the younger members were all talk. It was mostly just PowerPoints and new encryption codes for their message boards.

There'd been professional hackers in the Riser movement back in the day, but most of the good ones had gotten arrested. Now they just had high school nerds, guys who dropped out of computer science programs. They were good at working around the Internet firewalls, finding out what people on the Chinese equivalent message boards were saying. They could find hidden microphones and listening devices. But nobody could break into government stuff anymore, not with the people they had working for Paradise.

The meeting commenced, as expected, with a PowerPoint presentation. Everyone sat, looking disgruntled, even though Nino knew they'd be off for dinner with the wife and kids or a drink with their friends soon after. Like normal, law-abiding citizens. But the air in the room was more hushed than usual, Nino noticed as soon as he took a seat. The disgruntled looks were there, but there was something else in everyone's eyes. Nino hadn't checked the message board that day - maybe he should have. Their eyes were full of hope.

The presenter clicked to the first slide, and Nino's eyes widened.

**REGIME CHANGE COMING TO CHINA?**


	3. Chapter 3

Nobody could get confirmation. Sho hunkered down at his desk, trying to focus on his work even as the newsroom phones went off again and again. Channel One was supposed to be the voice of the government, the most legitimate source of information. And yet the government wasn't talking. 

They had an evening broadcast in three hours, and even if Sho was mostly ready to go, what did it matter if nothing else was ready? The social networks had been buzzing all day. As one message board was shut down, another sprung up in its place. There was no containing it; it had come out of nowhere.

The Chinese premier had allegedly suffered a heart attack or a stroke. The government over there was in disarray, scrambling to clamp down on their own people's voices. But it still got through, and thus far the Japanese government had no comment whatsoever. It could all be a trap, a Chinese test of their continued loyalty. Or it could be the truth.

All the international desk people around him had exhausted their sources. Nobody in the Cabinet was talking, nobody in the Diet was coughing up a word about it. So Sho couldn't say he was surprised when Kimura-san came by looking annoyed a few minutes later.

He looked up, saw the irritation in his producer's eyes. "If it was up to me, we'd be working on our segment."

Sho nodded. "They want me to make a call, don't they?"

Kimura almost looked apologetic. "Orders from on high. If we can't get any statement on it, we can't run anything about it tonight. Our silence will just give people reason to doubt us all the more."

He was pretty sure nobody in Japan that was halfway intelligent took them seriously, but it was Sho's job to make people believe the lies. "You know I can't promise anything."

"I know that."

Sho got up. He was supposed to be heading for wardrobe soon. He had the names of tonight's hundred running through his mind, and he shoved them back as he took out his phone, finding the empty conference room at the end of the floor and slamming the door behind him. He took a deep breath, ensuring that the blinds were shut. Someone would probably be brave, try to listen through the door, but what did it matter?

He had the number memorized, even if he rarely dialed it. It was late, but someone was always watching the phones. "You have reached the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications. At this time we are unable to take your call..."

He let the whole bullshit message play out before hanging up. Okay. He'd tried, he'd really tried to do it through official channels. He had to do it the hard way now. This was not a number he memorized, and he scrolled through his contact list until he found it. He'd even labeled it with the name of a Thai restaurant in Yokohama he liked in case his phone ever got stolen. Sho was many things, but he wasn't dumb enough to label the direct line to the Director-General with "Dad - Work."

He hesitated over the number and took a deep breath before hitting the Dial button.

"Policy Coordination, this is the Director-General's office. At this time we are unable to..."

It wasn't a recording. "Hamada-san?"

"At this time, sir, we are unable to take your call. If you'd like to leave a message..."

"Hamada-san," he said with an edge to his voice. Much as he liked his father's secretary and didn't want to yell at her, his bosses had left him with little choice. "Hamada-san, this is Sakurai Sho."

"I'm very sorry, Sakurai-san..."

"Just...is he there? Please, Hamada-san, is he in his office?"

He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. It had been a long day for the government, and he imagined their office bore the brunt of it. "He said you would probably call."

His father knew him better than anyone. The man had gotten him his job, so this was obviously an expectation on a day like today. "Can I speak with him?"

"He can't speak to anyone. Your mother even called asking if he was coming home for dinner, and I had to tell her to leave a message." She was rustling through some papers on her end. "If you could please apologize to her on my behalf..."

Sho started to pace the room. Time was slipping away from him. "Two minutes with him. A minute. Thirty seconds, I'll take anything you can give me."

"He'll tell you the same thing I am. He'll tell you no comment."

"Then let me hear it from the man himself. Please, Hamada-san."

She finally relented, putting him on hold. And then his father was on the line.

"Sho."

"I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I wouldn't normally do this. You know I don't do things like this."

"I know. I imagine things are pretty hectic over there."

Talk about an understatement. But then again, his father wasn't having the best day of his work life either. "We can't get anyone to comment. You know what it'll look like, us going live tonight and reporting about the economy and house fires and the weather and anything but what's happening overseas. Are they going to release any sort of statement? At all?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"I'm not asking for confirmation or a denial of anything. I'm asking if they'll hold a press conference. If we can at least say to stay tuned for it in the morning or something..."

"Sho, that's enough." His father didn't need to raise his voice. He never had. Sho had always been an obedient child, his father a fair and generous man. Sho knew when he was trying the man's patience.

"If the people don't believe us, it all falls apart," he said quietly. "Isn't that what you've always said?"

It was always hard for Sho to reconcile the fact that Sakurai Shun, the father who'd given him everything, was the same as Sakurai Shun, the man in the government, one among many who desperately wanted Paradise Circus to continue without interference.

"Your mother wants you to come for dinner," his father said abruptly. "Do you have time next week?"

"Dad..."

"She's being very insistent about it." 

Sho was quiet. There was something else in the tone of his father's voice, something not quite right. He obviously had something to tell Sho, something he couldn't say over the phone. His father almost sounded afraid, and he never ever did.

"I'll come. Tell mom I'll be there, so long as she doesn't get mad if I leave early."

"Good. That's settled. I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help, truly."

He imagined his father in his office, wondered just how many different devices were in there recording his every move, ensuring his loyalty the same as anyone else in so high a position. 

"I'll see you soon then. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Sho."

He left the conference room, finding Kimura standing there without shame even as a few other members of the newsroom scurried away like rats on a sinking ship.

"And what words of wisdom did your daddy have to impart?" Sho knew the producer was just frustrated, but Sho wasn't stupid. He knew most of the people on the team were well aware of his connections. The nepotism that had gotten him the most prominent spot in the evening broadcast.

He ignored the condescension even as his anger grew. He had to focus on that night's broadcast. The show had to go on. 

"He couldn't tell me anything."

But he would, Sho realized. The next time he saw his father, he feared just what the man might have to tell him.

\---

Second rotation was harder. In the morning there was Lieutenant Katori's cheer and the small smiles of the guests on the Midway. In the first few hours they sometimes even had fun knocking down milk bottles, spinning around in the teacup ride cars that left Jun dizzy just watching from the sidelines. Second rotation was when it all started to fall apart.

The Midway lights started to dim around 1830 hours. The staff started to close up shop, the cotton candy machines turned off, the jet coaster did one final whip around the tracks. Announcements ran over the speakers encouraging everyone to move to the Paradise Hotel to get settled in their rooms. Room service would be on its way up so long as everyone was inside in a timely fashion.

The bubble they'd been living in since the buses had arrived that morning always burst in the most terrible ways. The charges he'd taken over from Matsuoka on first rotation were harder to wrangle than on most days. There were two teenage girls who'd snuck in their cell phones and were snapping pictures. Of course the entire installation was a dead zone so nothing was getting out, but the looks on their faces when Jun had confiscated their phones, cutesy charms and all, had been terrible.

There was a middle aged man from Osaka, noted on the list as someone who'd been in jail for rape. Jun had had to spend most of his afternoon following the man to ensure he didn't spend his final hours harassing female guests or staff. When 1900 hours rolled around, all of his charges were accounted for but there were still three guests somewhere on the grounds.

Even as the restaurant staff started heading up the stairs with steaming dinner trays, Jun was out with a flashlight and assigned to the Village. There were usually staff members milling around in the courtyard this time of night to keep an eye open for stragglers, but the command center didn't take chances. He shined the flashlight up into the trees in case they were decent climbers, and he looked behind bushes in case they were small and good at hiding. It was the worst game of hide and seek Jun could imagine.

He turned the corner around one of the houses, finding the guy from the pool. "Ohno-san," he said curtly, moving the flashlight out of the man's eyes.

"Corporal Matsumoto," the man said in his calm, quiet voice. Jun had never met someone who was so wrong and yet so perfect for the job as Ohno Satoshi. He was nearly silent whenever Jun ran into him at the hotel or on the grounds. At first Jun thought it was odd for someone in a place like this to be so quiet when most of the other civilian staff were cheerful and bright. But then he imagined being a guest at Paradise Circus himself. He wouldn't want to be alone, but he wouldn't want jolly people trying to convince him that he needed to have fun before they gassed him. Someone like Ohno who would just simply be there would be exactly what he'd want.

"You're usually on second shift, aren't you?"

"Yeah," the man said, falling into step beside Jun as they started to patrol around each of the Village houses in search of the remaining guests. "My coworker was sick. I took his shift and shut the pool down early. But Murakami asked me to help with cleanup anyway tonight."

They were just finishing the rounds when the siren went off. Everyone was accounted for.

"Corporal?" Ohno asked him as they made their way up to the hotel.

"Yeah?"

"Do you like your job?"

He slowed down, hearing the music from the Midway finally, mercifully shut off for the day. It was a question he asked himself enough, standing in that parking lot every day as the buses arrived or walking through the hotel after midnight and helping to clean things up. He had to be honest - when he'd enlisted in the Self-Defense Force out of high school it had been with that same shallow hope everyone had, that one day they'd be standing where he was now. Paradise Duty took you and your immediate family out of the lottery as long as they kept you on, the same as the civilian staff with their ten-year contracts.

Given the option of being anywhere else or working this assignment, Jun would pick his assignment every time. But it didn't necessarily mean he liked it.

"I don't like it either," Ohno said, seeming to understand what his silence had meant.

"What do you plan to do?" he asked Ohno as they made it into the lobby, Jun switching off his flashlight for good once they were inside. "When your contract's up?"

"Good question," Ohno replied.

They went their separate ways, Ohno to wherever he felt like wandering off to with his calm, simple aura, and Jun to the kitchens. He helped the staff bring up meals to the top floor, and despite the earlier issues with the three scattered guests, nobody caused any trouble. Jun stood at the door feeling like a hired thug while the staff entered the room, setting down the trays. Most of the guests were sitting on the bed or in a chair, staring into space. Some were watching television, but they only showed old movies or cartoons. One old man was writing a letter.

It still chilled him to the bone each time they exited the room and shut the door behind them. He could hear it sealing up completely. Nothing would get out now, not the gas, not the screams or the crying. Not until after midnight and everything had to be taken care of. 

Once the meals were delivered, the Ground Unit was on standby until midnight. He knew that some of them liked to play cards in the dining room, others napped at the command center. Jun walked the perimeter of the grounds and thought about Nino most nights.

Some families went years without Paradise Circus touching their lives, their own or someone's close to them. Jun hadn't thought much about it until he and Nino had started living together, when he'd asked Nino about his family. It had seemed like a simple question and a necessary one at that since they'd gotten so serious. 

Nino's parents had divorced when he'd been in junior high, and his father was chosen in the lottery soon after. It was a country of more than a hundred million people, but his mother was chosen just before Nino had graduated high school, his newlywed sister a month later. After that conversation ended, Jun had never asked Nino about it again. He knew that Nino disappeared once a month to go to his family's grave. He'd never asked Jun to come with him. So that part of Nino was always going to be closed off to him.

Sometimes he got the feeling that Nino wanted to ask him about Paradise Circus, about what really happened here. There were rumors, of course, on the Internet. That you showed up and were shot at by a firing squad. That the Self-Defense Force themselves pulled the trigger. Or maybe there was a secret elevator and an underground facility. Maybe nobody was actually killed, but the government experimented on them. 

Jun wondered what he'd say if Nino did ask. If he rolled over in bed one night and asked "what did my parents see on their last day? What about my sister?"

He found himself at the very edge of the gardens when the siren sounded at midnight. He'd been walking for hours around the same path, lost in his thoughts. He was needed now though, and he hurried back to the hotel, finding all the second rotation staff preparing. It would be one thing if Paradise returned people's bodies to their families. Then there could be closure. 

Instead, the bodies were removed from the rooms every night and brought to the command center for incineration. There'd never been a thorough explanation as to why, and to question the way of things was foolish. Paradise Duty could end after a week or last you through the remainder of your career. If you didn't want to risk your own family ending up in the body bags, you kept your mouth shut and soldiered on. They hired obedient people here, not risk takers.

He found Ohno again working on the second floor with one of the newer civilian staff members. Jun had seen him in the reading room a few times the last few weeks. Jun could tell he was new because his eyes were red and full of tears as he helped Ohno lift a teenage girl off of the hotel room bed and into the body bag on the floor. They looked up as soon as they heard Jun's boots on the carpet.

"Check the bathroom, Aiba-chan," Ohno said gently. "Jun-kun can help me with the rest."

The new guy, Aiba, barely nodded before hurrying off to the bathroom.

Ohno looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, are we running late?"

"No," Jun said as he heard Aiba obviously trying to cover up his sobs by turning on the sink. "No, everything's fine."

He helped Ohno to lift the body, walking backwards out of the room just as Murakami was directing other members of his staff with the stretchers. There was a freight elevator at the end of each floor which connected with the tunnel that ran underground between the hotel and the command center. He and Ohno got the body bag onto the stretcher Murakami himself was wheeling.

When they returned, Aiba had emerged from the bathroom and was shakily tossing personal effects into a garbage bag, including letters the girl had written to her family. Every day Jun encouraged the guests to write them, knowing they would never reach their final destination. He could feel tiny pricks of tears forming in the corner of his eyes at the sight of poor Aiba, so new to this and with ten full years left of it to endure. So many letters that would never get home.

Jun looked away, busying himself with stripping the sheets off the bed as Ohno moved to Aiba's side. He could hear the man trying to comfort his co-worker, not that it would do much good. They still had a good seven or eight rooms left to account for. There'd be more letters, more photographs of children and loved ones left behind. It was easier to just hurry it all into the garbage bag. Out of sight, out of mind.

He hauled the sheets and blankets to one of the laundry carts in the hallway, hearing the squeaky wheels of another stretcher on its way to the elevator and Murakami's barked orders. The man ran a tight ship. He would have been a perfect candidate for the Self-Defense Force.

He helped Ohno and Aiba with the next few rooms, and Aiba's sympathies seemed to grow rather than diminish as they went room to room. It wasn't a good sign. If he didn't shape up, he'd get dismissed. When the civilians signed their contracts, Jun knew there were non-disclosure agreements so that when they left they could be arrested and held indefinitely if they spoke up about what they'd seen on the inside. 

Jun watched the way Ohno was with him, the way he seemed to try and keep Aiba focused, how he kept his arm around Aiba's middle like a parent comforting a child more than a co-worker with a fellow colleague. It was something worth reporting to a superior or to Murakami. Aiba needed discipline, not coddling. He'd never make it through his contract at this rate.

Ohno met his eyes then, and despite all his years of training it caught Jun off guard. He'd never seen Ohno look that way before, but he instinctively understood what it meant.

Don't you say a word, Ohno's eyes told him. Not one fucking word.

\---

Paradise Circus is a team effort! Our staff must be a well-oiled machine, ready to help guests at a moment's notice. We encourage team building and friendship through our Paradise Village housing. All staff will share kitchen and laundry facilities with their housemates. Cook meals together, get to know one another. These are the people who will have your back on duty. 

It is common in a shared space like ours that relationships between staff members may occur. We ask that all personal relationships between staff be disclosed to management. Your privacy will be maintained. While we recognize that staff members are adults and we do not discourage personal relationships from forming, any problems that arise can affect team unity. Keep the overall mission of Paradise Circus in mind if you decide to embark upon a relationship.

From the _Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual_ , Chapter Six: Village Life.

\---

It was the second day off he'd gotten. He'd spent the first one at home, his parents harassing him the whole time about what he was eating, was he getting enough sleep, was he working hard. The same kind of stuff they'd asked him when he was a teenager and stayed out past his curfew to play basketball at the gym down the street that kept late hours. But he was twenty-nine years old now, and they were in that mindset with him again.

So on this off day, Aiba chose only to spend lunchtime at home. His father was busy in the restaurant, but his mother had taken off to make him something, sit with him. Aiba loved his family, he truly did, and after almost a month at Paradise Circus he was more sure of it than ever. But it was tough to be in his parents' house now.

He could see it in his mother's eyes when she set down his food. She was angry with him for signing up. She'd said nothing when he'd initially come home, saying he'd gone in and signed the contract and was accepted. But now that he was there, away from her and unable to share very much about what his life now entailed, she was mad. She wanted her Masaki back. He'd done this to save her, and she resented him for it.

She resented him because he'd already let Paradise Circus change him. Even without knowing what he'd been up to twenty-four hours a day, she could tell he was different. Aiba's parents were open books, and he and his brother had taken after them entirely. They went on vacations together and stayed up late laughing until they passed out. They went to karaoke and cheered each other on. They shared themselves, all of themselves, good and bad.

His mother could see the bags under his eyes, could tell that it was draining him. And he had to lie to her face and say it was hard work, but he was totally fine. He'd always been such an awful liar. 

So today he wasn't staying long, just long enough to ask how the restaurant was doing, ask about his grandpa's upcoming hip surgery. When it was time to go, his mother embraced him and cried but she didn't tell him to stay. He'd already hurt her enough, and she was too proud a woman to beg him.

"I love you," he said honestly, taking in the comforting scent of his mom, hoping he could make it last a few more weeks. He could smell other mom scents in the rooms at Paradise Hotel sometimes. Those mothers wouldn't get to hug their kids now. "Mom, I love you so much."

"Don't let me keep you, Ma-kun," she whispered before letting him go and shoving a bag of food at him.

He took the back way out of the house, leaning against the back fence once he couldn't see her standing in the doorway anymore and took out his phone. It was next to worthless inside the Paradise complex, but out here he could make calls again. He thought of calling a friend, getting distracted with a movie or some kind of sports activity that would wear him out, but he didn't want to be a bother. 

He went through his contacts fruitlessly until he came upon the newest one. Kanjiya Shihori-san. He'd seen her mostly in passing between shifts, catching her smirking at him in the kitchen of the house or chiding him for being late for his turn in the reading room. Aside from Ohno, he hadn't really made a lot of friends at work. But with Shihori-san he'd found himself in the hallway of the house a lot, torn between going through his own door or knocking on hers. She'd never told on him after that first night, and he hadn't taken the time to thank her yet.

She was off today, probably with her own friends, but he was always more impulsive than thoughtful. It only took three rings before he heard her voice.

"Aiba-san?"

"Hi, Shihori-san? Hope I'm not bothering you on your day off..."

"Not at all." She surprised him then. "I'm bored. Let's do something."

"Oh," he said, having prepared thoroughly for a rejection. "Like what?"

"I'm shopping at Omotesando right now, how far off are you?"

He was all the way in Chiba, but they agreed to meet in Asakusa in an hour. He bypassed Sensoji Temple, finding her at the entrance to the small Hanayashiki amusement park right on time. She was different out of her work uniform, casually dressed in a long sweater and some colorful tights. "Of all the places to meet," he said, gesturing to the park behind them.

"Imagine that," she said in reply. "An amusement park where the visitors are genuinely happy."

The temple complex was packed with visitors, and she linked arms with him so they wouldn't get separated. They walked past tiny booths full of trinkets, noisy children weaving in between them and their annoyed parents close behind. It was strange and normal and wonderful. This was what his life had always been like before, blissfully normal. With shops and people shoving and the city full of life. It felt like he was a visitor from another universe now.

They made their way east toward the river, standing together as they watched some of the tour boats go by. She nudged him with her elbow. "Why did you call me? You see me every day."

"Not every day," he said. "But I called you because..."

"Because?"

He watched the people queuing up for the next boat ride, other couples walking together in the streets around them. "I wanted to see you," he said, realizing it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "I wanted to see you, but not there."

"Hmm," she replied. "Well, here I am."

That made him laugh, and it felt good. He was pretty sure he hadn't laughed since he'd started his new job. They walked along the riverbank, through busy neighborhoods and quiet neighborhoods. He told her about the Aiba Masaki he used to be, before Paradise. About sports and his family and all the things normal people spoke about when they were getting to know each other. She did the same. 

She'd worked for a cleaning service, working from 8:00 in the evening until the wee hours of the morning, vacuuming and cleaning trash cans in office buildings in Shinagawa. The odd hours left her free to pursue geeky hobbies during the day, and she confessed to spending hours and hours of her life in manga cafes. 

"Have I scared you off yet?"

"No," he admitted with a smile. "Not in the least."

People from all walks of life seemed to find their way onto the civilian staff roster at Paradise, all normal people with the same reasoning: I'll do it to keep my family safe.

The sun set, and Shihori grew curious about the bag of leftovers he'd been toting around all afternoon. "Do you want to try?" he asked. "My mom's not a bad cook."

She smiled. "If you want to reheat them, we have to go back."

He thought of the carefree day they'd spent together, talking and wandering. Paradise Circus had seemed so far away, but now it was back. Tomorrow night he'd be helping Ohno again. He could already hear the noisy zip of the body bags, and he shut his eyes.

Her hand on his was warm. "Aiba-san. It's going to be okay."

He thought of the first time they'd met, the way she'd gotten him to his room, kept him from trouble. In that moment, despite all the horrors he'd seen at Paradise Circus, he absolutely believed her. He had to believe her, had to believe Ohno when he told him the same thing. It had only been a month, and he had two lifelines keeping him afloat. But in another month Ohno's contract was up.

"When do you leave?" he blurted out. "Your contract. When does your contract end?"

She squeezed his hand, bringing her finger to her lips to ssh him. "It's going to be okay."

"Please," he begged her. "Just tell me. I need to know."

He was going to lose Ohno. He needed to know how soon he'd lose her too. How long it would be before he'd be at Paradise Circus completely alone, zipping up body bags with strangers who didn't have a lot of sympathy for a weakling like him.

"Six years," she told him. "Now let's get back so I can try your mom's cooking, okay?"

They took the train back to Nerima, and even as Shihori used her phone to call for the jeep to get them, all Aiba could think was six years, six years, six years. Surely that would be enough time to get stronger.

It was business at usual as they sat together in the kitchen for the next few hours, Shihori praising his mother's apparent genius (her own parents were awful at cooking). But he could only watch her, the easy manner she had as she dug into the food, made jokes about the awful music that Ikuta over in House 2 was listening to the other night. People like Shihori and people like Ohno, they managed. They probably didn't like their jobs any more than he did, but they got through it. 

He offered to do the dishes, and she headed upstairs to read. The midnight siren went off just as he was putting the plates away. Tonight he didn't have to help out. He found himself taking the stairs two at a time, and where before he'd hesitated this time he didn't. He knocked on her door, hoping he wasn't disturbing anyone else on the floor who needed to start first shift bright and early.

She didn't seem surprised to see him when she opened the door, though she'd changed into pajamas. She looked up and him and grinned. "You're not sick of me yet?"

"Thank you. For today."

"I had a good time," she admitted, standing in the doorway. He could hear soft music playing, could smell some girly scented candles behind her. She lowered her voice. "Aiba-san, I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm sorry..."

"You're the way we should all be, you know," she told him, and for the first time since they'd met, he could see deep sorrow in her eyes. "Promise me you won't get lost."

"Shihori-san..."

"Good night," she said, closing her door.

\---

He stared at the letter until his eyes crossed. It had come in a plain envelope, so normal in appearance that he'd almost tossed it in the pile with the rest of the bills for Jun to look at when he got home. He should have known better. He'd seen two of these envelopes before, the one that took his mom away and the one that took his sister.

He had just figured that after what had happened to his family that it was a statistical improbability. 

 

_NINOMIYA KAZUNARI  
17 June 1983  
#469719924111_

_19 May 2012_

_Dear Ninomiya-san,_

_You have been selected randomly in the lottery for the Paradise Circus. We thank you and honor you in advance for your sacrifice and heroism. Because of your selection and the selection of thousands before you, Japan remains a free and peaceful nation, safe from the nuclear and chemical weaponry of the Russian Federation and the People's Republic of China._

_Please use the coming week to say goodbye to family and friends and see to your final obligations and arrangements. On 26 MAY 2012, please report to Shinjuku Highway Bus Terminal, Tokyo, Stop #17 at 6:00 AM. Subsidized transport may be available if you or your household meets certain financial criteria. Please ensure that you arrive promptly. No family or friends may be present. See enclosed documentation for further instructions and a map of the Shinjuku area._

_We humbly thank you for your cooperation and courage._

 

No matter how many times he read it, he wasn't sure he believed it. Because it arrived with the same simple language you'd find in a rejection from a job hunt. Or maybe he just didn't want to acknowledge that the piece of paper in his hand was saying that in a week from today he would die.

He'd fought against Paradise for so long after it took his family. He figured the government had been fucking with him, leaving him alive as a punishment for something that he'd done when he was little and couldn't remember. Maybe he'd cheated on a test in fourth or fifth grade, an unforgivable offense. Maybe he'd failed to use his turn signal while driving one time too many.

Either way, he was as good as dead. This wasn't a letter you could just put through the paper shredder and tell them you'd never gotten it. There were enough CCTV cameras to prove that a mailman was dropping one of these things in your mailbox.

He laughed, setting it down on the table and getting to his feet. It was all too much. Especially now when China was toppling from within. They had their own problems to worry about. They didn't need a diligent report from the Japanese every day saying "Yes, sir, Mr. Chinese Government, sir. Yes, we did kill 100 civilians today in accordance with a fifty year old agreement, sir."

Say goodbye to family and friends. Imagine the excuse he could use for work. "Ah, I'm sorry, Taichi-san," he'd say, sounding ashamed, "Afraid I can't come in today, I've been sentenced to death. Oh no, I won't be in tomorrow either. Very sorry." He laughed harder, picking up some magazines where they'd been stacked precariously on the shelf, dumping them on the floor. His game controller was next. He picked that up, flung it across the room where it clanged against Jun's folded up treadmill.

Before too long he was crying, not wanting to break anything else because Jun would want to know why. He couldn't possibly tell Jun. He didn't dare tell Jun. He paced back and forth, feet pounding the floor hard enough that the downstairs neighbor whacked his ceiling with a broom or something like one. He couldn't tell Jun. He couldn't tell _Jun_. Say goodbye to family and friends. What friends? The assholes in the Risers? Taichi-san? Yamada-kun at work? Oh, he could say goodbye to Toda Erika on the big screen, throw a handful of popcorn at her face as one final farewell.

He couldn't tell Jun. Jun felt things. He was a soldier, a good soldier, but god damn it, he felt everything. It would destroy him, going to work every day for the next week knowing that Nino would be arriving soon for whatever punishment was meted out. Would they shoot him? Gas him? Zap him with a high-tech laser beam out of a sci-fi movie?

He should break up with Jun, tell Jun he'd been fucking someone else behind his back. Being in the Risers was close enough to infidelity anyway. He had to get out, get away. Let Jun be pissed off and think Nino had been a stupid asshole the whole time. Anything but the truth. The truth that Jun's immediate family could be on the safe list. The truth that if Jun was married, his wife and children could be on the safe list. But not him. Not Nino. Nino didn't count, Nino couldn't be saved, and Jun would hate himself forever if he knew.

But he only had a week left, a week left with Jun in his life. One week left to enjoy the feel of Jun's skin under his fingertips, the sound of Jun's voice, the scent of his cologne as he left in the morning when he thought Nino was asleep. Why hurt Jun more now when it was already going to hurt him when he was gone? And why spend the last week of his life being anywhere but right here in the place the two of them shared?

He did his best to calm down, putting the letter back into the envelope and shoving it into the plastic bin with his extra Famicom controllers and ancient games. Jun never touched his game stuff. He stacked the magazines back where they were, tidied up the rest of the chaos he'd inflicted upon the apartment. And then he started to think, really think.

For months the Risers had been pestering him, wanting him to exploit his relationship for the "common good." Well, he could do them one better now, couldn't he? Why bother Jun when he could just be on the inside himself? He opened up his laptop, made his way through the labyrinth to the Risers message board.

"Wolf in sheep's clothes," he typed. "I've been selected in the lottery. I'll be inside in a week." 

If he was going down, it would be on his terms. He didn't know what it was like on the inside, if he'd even get a chance to cause some mayhem. But at least Jun wouldn't be in trouble now. He wouldn't have to steal Jun's secrets. When he was gone, Jun could simply soldier on. Find someone more compatible, or at least someone who wasn't looking to change the world one lame ass message board post at a time.

He logged off, closing the laptop lid just as Jun came in. Nino met him at the door, moving into Jun's space in a way that had unnerved him when they'd met. Close quarters, something that set a soldier like Jun on edge. Now he simply tolerated it. And it ached to see Jun's outward denial but the obvious interest in his eyes. He was probably thinking that Nino was coming around, that Nino was his and his alone again. He could just see it in those big, honest brown eyes.

He'd come home in just a t-shirt and jeans, dropping the duffel with his fatigues to the floor. Nino pressed him back against the door, hooking his fingers in Jun's belt loops, tugging him close enough to hear the little gasp as Jun's breath caught.

"Hi," Nino said.

"Hi."

"Rough day at the office?" he asked. He was feeling a little bit more invincible now than when the mail had arrived.

"Aren't they always?"

He palmed Jun through his jeans, hearing an almost satisfied growl before they were moving away from the door, stumbling past the crappy kitchen chairs Jun was always demanding they replace. They made it to the bed, barely, and when Jun was behind him, then deep inside him he thought he could spend the next week like this and march off happily to his execution. He let Jun smile, let him bite his neck and shove his face into the bed sheets. He let Jun take everything from him that Nino had been too fucking busy, too fucking traitorous to give him for months now. It was sex like they'd had before it had gotten too complicated, when they'd fucked because they wanted each other and because it simply felt good.

Jun's hands were on his hips, fingernails leaving tiny little half-moon indents in his skin. "Mine," he could hear Jun saying. He cried out at the thought of Jun moving on, doing this with someone else. It broke him then, completely, and Jun must have thought he was getting off on the rough treatment. He could feel Jun lose his precious control, could feel him shudder as he came.

"What was that about?" Jun asked him a while later. "Not that I'm complaining."

From where he was on the bed, he could see the living room and the plastic bin. The envelope was in there, even if he couldn't see it.

_Please use the coming week to say goodbye to family and friends._

He threaded his fingers through Jun's and squeezed. "No reason."


	4. Chapter 4

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT  
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST  
FREEDOM SEGMENT  
AIRED 19 MAY 2012 - 23:18-23:27

MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: We turn to Sakurai Sho with the Freedom segment of our broadcast. Sakurai-san, how are you doing this evening?

SAKURAI SHO, CORRESPONDENT: I'm doing well, Murao-san. We live in a country that continues to enjoy peace and prosperity, how could I not be?

MURAO: Absolutely. And what heroes do we have to thank for that enduring peace this evening?

SAKURAI: One hundred brave men and women. In less than forty minutes another group of heroes will join those who came before them. Tonight I'd like to highlight the contributions of one of yesterday's heroes, Ariake Yukihiro-san. 

(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)

SAKURAI: (narration) Ariake Yukihiro-san was born and raised in Tokyo. Ariake-san was a pillar of the community in Ota Ward where his family restaurant Ariake is well-known for a very special dish...

\---

It had been a while since the whole family had been around the dinner table. Maybe not since his grandmother had come for a visit around New Year's. Usually the family went out to see her, but this year had been an exception. His grandmother had begged for the chance to observe her grandson in action on the news, and she'd sat there properly in her best kimono, all dolled up as Sho delivered his segment of the evening broadcast. He doubted she'd have the strength to get to Tokyo again, and it had probably been the only time in his years of the Freedom segment that he'd actually been proud of the work he'd accomplished.

But tonight there was no grandmother, just his sister in a bit of a snit because her company was undergoing some downsizing and a few of her friends had been let go. His younger brother was starting his university hunt in earnest, begging leave from the table to go "research some proper schools." Then again, Sho had used the same excuse back in the day and had spent the rest of his evenings on porn sites that the government hadn't managed to completely shut down yet.

After dinner, his mother and sister cleared the table. Usually the whole family did it together, but it seemed that everyone knew tonight was somewhat special because Sho was joining them and not just for a holiday. He followed his father from the dining room, past the old hulking grandfather clock in the hall. His father opened the sliding door that led into the yard, and even in the dim haze of the garden lanterns he could see that some of his mother's flowers were already in bloom.

It wasn't a chilly night, but his father usually seemed to prefer the comforts of his study in the evening rather than the garden. His father slipped on a pair of rubber shoes his mother used for gardening and sat down on one of the wooden chairs on the patio, sighing as he did so. Sho slid the door shut behind him, slipping on another pair of garden shoes to sit in the chair directly across from him. Completely outside. If there were listening devices inside the house, they'd be picking up the sounds of dishes being rinsed and slid into the dishwasher or the sound of his brother's music blaring in his room.

"Been a while since your mother's made anything," his father said with a laugh. "You remember the bentos she used to make?"

To be fair, his mother had always worked full-time regardless of his father's position, and Sho had been happy to receive a homemade lunch at all. But he smiled. "One time she gave us soft-boiled eggs and yakisoba with a packet of mayonnaise."

"I was always a hit in the cafeteria with those bentos," his father admitted, and Sho couldn't help imagining a bunch of members of the government sitting around lunch tables the same as those he'd sat at in high school.

They sat in silence for a few moments. One needed patience with Sakurai Shun, at least when he had big news to share. Every time he'd been promoted within the government, it had taken him a while to get to the point. The added security clearances and with them, the increased security around the house. The occasional government bodyguard checking in on Sho and his siblings at school, at work. If the Risers ever wanted to make a big impression, it would be kidnapping members of the government or their families. Nobody had tried anything that stupid since Sho had been in grade school, and that had been quashed rather quickly.

His father pulled a cigarette pack from his jacket pocket, lighting one up. Sho was glad for the darkness and shadow on the patio. It concealed his surprise quite well. He always thought his father had quit. "Sho, there's something I need to tell you."

He said nothing in reply. His father got halfway through his cigarette before he spoke again. "A celebrity will be entering Paradise Circus soon. Kitagawa Keiko, an actress about your age I think. Her management hasn't notified the press yet."

Sho had heard of her before. He wasn't on the entertainment beat, but she'd been in a dozen movies and dramas by now. And it wasn't so odd to hear this from his father. Government officials got to see the lists before they went out so all details could be cross-checked, addresses confirmed before notifications were sent.

His father dropped the cigarette to the patio cement, crushing it under his shoe. His mother would be furious if she found it later. "You'll be going in with her. Exclusively."

Sho was confused. "In with her? To interview her, you mean?" It had only been a few weeks back that Higashiyama-san had been selected in the lottery, and now another celebrity was being sacrificed. It would undoubtedly be a stirring performance.

"You're going inside. Paradise Circus, you're going in with her."

Sho felt his heart start to race. "Have...have I been...the lottery, have I..."

His father looked deeply pained, hurriedly shaking his head. "No! Oh, Sho-chan, of course not. No!" 

"Then what do you mean, dad?"

Sakurai Shun's voice dropped to a whisper. Even outside he was nervous. "It's been decided that we're losing people. This mess with the Chinese premier, with it getting out over the net. That should have been contained, and they know it. The people want transparency, they want to believe that the government is listening to their complaints. People know you, people trust you..."

"They know me but I wouldn't go so far as to..."

"Sho, listen to me. Please."

"I'm listening."

His father's hands were almost shaking. "We're going to show the country what we do. We're going to show everything. The Self-Defense Force is receiving notification tomorrow, as will Channel One. It'll be you, Kitagawa-san, and one cameraman. That's it. They'll see that there are no firing squads, no hangings, no experiments."

Sho sat back in the chair, wide-eyed. Paradise Circus was a secret, had been a secret for nearly 50 years. Everyone pretty much knew that it was on a military installation somewhere in the western part of Tokyo, some even got close enough to snap photos from a distance of high walls topped with barbed wire, nestled in a forest.

"But what about the Chinese government? The Russians? Won't they be angry?"

"The Russians haven't cared for a decade what we do. And the Chinese have no problems if we continue to show numbers. Hell, we could just go into people's houses and strangle them in front of their families, and the Chinese would find it to be enough. But we do it peacefully, with respect and dignity. We're not like other countries, Sho, you must believe me."

He crossed his arms. "But if the Chinese are undergoing change, why are we still executing people? Surely they don't need this empty sacrifice after all these years..."

"Keep your voice down."

"Why me? Why not anyone else? Why not a government team? This could cause an even greater uproar!"

"Why you?" his father asked. "Because you care, Sho. Even if they hate me, hate my party, hate everything in the government. Even if they hate Paradise Circus, they have you. Because every night, you remind them that it's not an empty sacrifice. That these are people, and they're loved. You are their voice. That's why I didn't want you to follow me. That's why I got you where you are. I didn't want you to be hated. I wanted them to trust you."

"Wait a second," he muttered. "Just wait one second...how long have you...did you always..."

His father looked at his feet, gripping the arms of his chair. "We are divided, you see. The government. Half want to keep Paradise closed, the other half want to show it. And this has been going on since I was your age. But there was never a voice. Tamori-san read the names forever, but he was always too cold. You don't realize how much they trust you. So we have your voice, Sho. The half that says no, well, they want us to fail. I think they want a panic. They want it to fail so they can tighten things up for good. It has nothing to do with the Chinese for them. They do this because they like the control."

The government wanted to continue the Paradise Project for their own selfish ends? But what purpose would that serve? "Dad..."

"I'm not like them, Sho. I love this country, I love you. Everything I have done has been out of love, and to protect our country and this family. If that means never-ending Paradise, so be it. If the Chinese say tomorrow to shut it down, so be it."

He was going inside. He was going inside Paradise Circus to see how they'd been executing people for nearly fifty years, since the darkest days after the end of America. All of this was on him. The future of Japan, the future of Paradise, was on him. He felt angry with his father. All these years the man had been grooming him for this? All those smiles across the dinner table, and he'd knowingly been setting Sho up for such an important role?

But his anger subsided when he saw the tears in his father's eyes, the love and trust there.

"Dad," he said, his voice scratchy. "Dad, what happens to you if I fail? What happens if I can't spin this the way you need me to?"

His father got to his feet and headed for the house. "I think you know."

Sho stayed out in the garden alone, listening to the crickets chirp. Yeah, he thought. No pressure.

\---

Lieutenant Katori had called ten of them to the command center. They were cleared of their morning duty for the next week, and their positions would be covered. They were in one of the rooms in the bowels of the building, and they sat around a table as a few men in suits from the government, some from Foreign Affairs, some Internal, led the meeting. They were on the joint task force that mandated Paradise policy.

Government officials came by on a regular basis, and they were usually confined to the command center where they observed goings on from the screens in the main security room. But today's meeting was different, Jun could just tell. 

Katori sat, looking more serious than Jun had ever seen him, as the government men pulled out dozens of folders and charts marked CONFIDENTIAL and CLASSIFIED. Jun had been granted a fairly high clearance simply because he'd been assigned to Paradise Duty, but he learned quickly enough that these men were probably far over him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, on May 26, a celebrity will be among the guests to Paradise Circus," one of the men explained. They all opened their folders to find Kitagawa Keiko staring back at them. "We are already doubling efforts at Shinjuku in the event of fan misbehavior. However, Kitagawa-san will not be arriving alone."

They turned the page, and Jun was surprised to see the guy on the news who read the names looking back. It wasn't an official Channel One headshot. Instead the picture was taken right from the guy's identity card.

"Sakurai Sho-san from Channel One news will be on the premises all day along with a cameraman who is still being vetted and cleared for security purposes. He has been granted exclusive privileges to accompany Kitagawa-san here on her final day and will be documenting the duration of her stay."

Jun couldn't believe it. Paradise Circus had been running for more than forty-five years, and the press had never been allowed within a mile of the place. Even if Channel One was the closest thing Japan had to a government mouthpiece, this was huge.

"It is logical to expect a bit of a panic or uncooperativeness from the other guests regarding this special treatment. Therefore, you have been selected to coordinate activities with the civilian staff to ensure that the day runs as smoothly as any other regardless of the presence of Sakurai-san's team. In addition, one of you will be responsible for the safety of Kitagawa-san, Sakurai-san, and the Channel One cameraman throughout the day. You will be with them at all times until 1900 hours when Kitagawa-san will report to her room in the Paradise Hotel. Sakurai-san and his crew member will then spend the rest of the evening under watch here at the command center until all rooms have been cleaned."

Katori met his eyes across the room, and Jun nearly jumped out of his seat. Of all the men and women in the room, he'd been on Paradise Duty for the shortest amount of time. And then the man from Foreign Affairs looked at him.

"Corporal Matsumoto Jun?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You have been randomly selected to perform these duties on May 26 and will be personally responsible for the welfare of the guest as well as the men from Channel One. Do you accept these responsibilities?"

What else could he say? He felt everyone in the room staring at him. He imagined one of them being Nino, staring a hole through him. "So they're going to show it then?" Nino would ask him. "They're going to show us all how they die?"

"I accept."

For the remainder of the meeting, they detailed all of the heightened security precautions that would need to be undertaken. The other ninety-nine guests would be tightly monitored and accompanied at all times. Extra security would be added around the Village so no one harassed the staff or allowed any guests to get close.

The meeting adjourned and Katori pulled him aside as the room cleared. "I volunteered," his superior officer admitted. "I didn't want any of you to be burdened like this."

"Sir..."

Katori put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you'll do well, Matsumoto. This is unprecedented, of course, but you've been here long enough to know what to do. Now I'm sure this Sakurai will want to interview you as well. I trust you'll be able to respond to any of his inquiries in a professional manner."

There was a threat in there somewhere, Jun knew. Keep your personal opinions to yourself. Praise Paradise or else keep your mouth shut. We're letting Sakurai in the gate, but he's on our playing field. 

"Of course, sir."

Then Katori's smile was back. "Great. Tomorrow you'll get the full tour of the command center. The government has an approved list of areas you can let Sakurai-san see and those you can't. I want the 26th to go as smoothly as any other day around here."

He was going to be on the news now. The whole country would see his face as he followed Kitagawa-san around the grounds. He was going to be the face of Paradise Circus, and he wasn't sure he liked the thought of that very much. He didn't like the thought of Nino sitting in front of the TV at home watching him escort people to their rooms at the Paradise Hotel, Nino watching him hoist a body bag onto a stretcher. Were they going to let Sakurai film that much?

He was technically off-duty for the remainder of the day, but some of the other Ground Unit members who'd been in the meeting were patrolling the grounds already. It was impossible for people like them to arrive for duty and not work. All the guests had minders, so he walked the Midway. The music played on, and an old woman smiled at him from one of the benches where she was enjoying a sno-cone.

From the first day Jun had started Paradise Duty, had seen what really went on here, he'd been sickened by it. He'd grown numb to it over the past several months, but what was the government thinking? Showing the people the hotel, the Midway. Was it really going to ease anyone's mind? Wouldn't a quick death be more merciful? What kind of spin was Sakurai going to put on it? What would Sakurai say about him, blindly following his orders, standing idly by while guests rode the merry-go-round instead of spending their last hours with loved ones?

But then he thought of his family, who'd supported him without complaint even as he'd enlisted when another career might have suited him better. He did it all for them, no matter the cost.

He'd do his job, come what may.

\---

The safety of guests is of paramount importance. For our Midway staff, this means keeping your ride areas clean and free of anything that may pose hazardous. For our Hotel staff, this means staying alert and ensuring that all guests on premises are accounted for and under supervision. Know your duties and exercise common sense.

Contact your supervisor in the event of an emergency.

From the _Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual_ , Chapter Three: Conduct Around Guests.

\---

When he'd first started out at the pool, there'd been a lifeguard chair mounted at the halfway point of the pool as well as a diving board in the deep end. Over time, fewer people had seen much reason to dive so the board had been taken out. Maru had been uncomfortable in the lifeguard chair, he always had. He always said that he didn't like sitting up high and watching the people in the pool. In any other pool, sure, but not this one. He just didn't like the feeling it gave him.

Last year the chair had been removed. Now Ohno sat in a regular plastic lawn chair watching the occasional swimmer do laps or a few teenagers wade around in the shallow end, beaning each other over the head with foam kickboards like they were in the pool in their neighborhood. He had a whistle if things got out of hand, but they rarely did. 

He'd relieved Maru at 3:30, half an hour early on account of extra training. There was apparently a VIP coming to Paradise Circus in a few days, and everyone was getting briefed about it. Someone was even going to be filming. Ohno and Maru doubted they'd bother coming to the pool, but all staff had to be on the same page.

It was about 6:30 now, half an hour to go and about fifteen minutes before the pool would close. He had one swimmer, a middle-aged man who'd been doing laps for almost an hour. Ohno had to say he was impressed with the man's abilities. He'd taken few breaks, treading water in the deep end for a few minutes before carrying on. 

He watched the man reach the opposite wall, kick off in the other direction. But this time where he usually surfaced to start his backstroke he didn't come up out of the water. Ohno could see him, a shaky blur under the water. He hadn't seemed tired, he'd taken adequate breaks. Hell, he'd even waved and smiled at Ohno a few times. But he still wasn't coming up. Had he hit his head on the wall? Had he run out of steam? Or was it something else entirely?

Ohno hurried out of his chair, sending it skittering across the deck as he headed for the red button on the wall and slammed his palm against it. It would set off a quiet buzzing alarm at the desk, and Murakami would have a team here in moments. But for now, Ohno dove into the pool in frustration. This hadn't happened in a while, and he chastised himself for not paying better attention. He should have seen it coming, shouldn't he?

He made it to the bottom of the pool, getting his arms around the man. He was bigger than Ohno, and he had to use all the strength he had to kick off the bottom and swim them both to the surface. The guy didn't seem to be breathing when they made it to the top and already he could see Yamashita-kun and Yui-chan from the medical team waiting at the edge of the pool. Ohno was trained in CPR, even though he rarely used it, but medical team took precedence in emergencies. They were the best of the best when it came to working without letting personal feelings take over.

He got the man over to the edge of the pool, locking eyes with Yamashita. Together they got the man out of the water, hauling him up and onto his back on the pool deck. Yui-chan was checking for a pulse and Yamashita prepared for chest compressions. Ohno found himself treading water, watching in a daze as the medical team got to work.

He listened to Yamashita count, watched the water droplets on the pool deck. He'd have to mop it up when he closed the pool down. Couldn't leave a slick surface. A few minutes later, he heard a gasp, heard the coughing, listened to Yui-chan's calm voice.

"You're with us, sir. You're with us."

Ohno headed for the ladder, climbing up and out of the pool.

"You're with us, sir," Yui-chan assured the man again, and Ohno felt his hands clench into fists. He helped the medical team get the man onto the gurney they'd rolled in, and the man met his eyes.

 _You should have just let me drown_ , those eyes said. _In a few hours I'll be dead anyway_.

Ohno backed away, nearly tripping over his own feet as Yamashita thanked him for his quick action. "We'll take it from here," they told him. "May as well shut down."

He heard the squeaky wheels head off, Yui-chan's voice assuring the man again and again that he was safe. It had been a long time since the job had made Ohno cry. Then again, it had been a long time since there'd been a suicide attempt right in front of him. He was still soaking wet, heading to the supply closet for his mop. Even as he mopped the pool deck, he was still dripping. He could still see the man in the water. He'd been waving goodbye, hadn't he? He'd been telling Ohno, "so long, that's all for me."

He shook as he tried to mop the water, the puddle that had formed under the man's body as Yamashita and Yui-chan saved his life for no good reason at all. He tossed the mop aside, hearing it thunk against the deck as he ran. No running near the pool, all the signs around him said as he fled, bursting through the shower room door and falling to his knees. It stung when he hit the tile, but it reminded him that he was alive and the man who'd wanted to drown wouldn't be alive for much longer.

He had one month left. Just one month left of this. He was leaving, and Aiba-chan would have to find his own way. He could hear his own sobs echoing off the tile, and he knew what it felt like to be Aiba Masaki, seeing Paradise Circus for the first time with his own eyes. There'd been an Ohno Satoshi like that once, too, who had stood on the Midway and watched as someone unbuckled their seatbelt when the jet coaster reached the top of the lift hill. 

He thought he'd quashed that part of Ohno Satoshi nearly ten years ago, thought he'd suppressed that part of himself that felt for these people. He'd been silent for so damn long. He screamed then, ten years of empathy pouring out of him until his throat was raw, and he thought they'd come take him away in a straitjacket. He screamed with everything he had until sound was coming out in a choking, scratchy shriek.

When he heard the shower room door open, he thought it would be Murakami ordering him to see the staff psychologist or the medical team with some mood stabilizing pills. It wasn't Murakami. 

"Your uniform," he muttered when Aiba knelt down beside him, wrapping his arms around him. "Your uniform will get wet, and you're on duty!"

Aiba said nothing, laying his head on top of Ohno's own and holding on to him. 

"Aiba-chan, your uniform..."

In a month Aiba would still be here in this hell, and Ohno would be out. But even if he was out, he was sure that Paradise would never really be gone.

\---

14 August 1962 is a date all Japanese children memorize in school. The textbooks note it as the day the Americans surrendered. It's usually just a date to remember in connection with 1964 and the opening of the Paradise Circus. What the textbooks keep silent about is who exactly surrendered. It's still in the radio transcripts, but the government's had those locked away for decades.

In the last weeks of July that year, the Chinese and the Soviets launched a joint surprise attack on the United States. The country was devastated. All communications extinguished, millions dead in just a few minutes. So who surrendered on the fourteenth of August? Nobody, that's who. There was nobody left. The Japanese government knew that, and it was what set the agreements and our own surrender in motion. 

The Japanese would never risk an attack of such magnitude, not after 1945. A single nuclear or chemical attack from either of the Big Two powers would kill millions. Japan would, like the United States, cease to exist. The Big Two needed proof of our willingness to cooperate, to acknowledge their sovereignty. So the Japanese acknowledged the surrender of the Americans and offered up their own terms. 

The bombs remained away from Japanese soil in exchange for a symbolic sacrifice, representing those who would have been lost anyway had we provoked the Soviets and Chinese into attacking. Similar arrangements had been made with much of Europe. A peaceful, elegant solution. No radiation, no prolonged suffering, and no loss of infrastructure. The cost? A mere hundred citizens per day. The Paradise Project was justified thusly: the needs of the many took precedent over the needs of the few.

From _Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement_ , Introduction - Japan Will Rise Again.

\---

Post-lottery collections was a lucrative business. Nino had learned as much ten years ago when he was putting the house up for sale along with everything in it. Some of them were dodgier than others. Much of the Osaka and Kobe businesses were bankrolled by the yakuza, and the government had seen little need to intervene there. 

At least in Tokyo he had a lot of options, and after almost fifty years, discretion had become a selling point for many of these businesses. That morning he had an appointment with a man named Inagaki who met Nino in a non-descript office building near Tokyo Midtown. The man wore a suit but seemed to pass little judgment on Nino's t-shirt and jeans. Some people consulted lawyers or their banks, but Nino didn't have much to his name and places like these made all the phone calls for you. They canceled credit cards, dealt with your loan shark, hired a moving crew to get things quietly and discretely out of your home as soon as you stepped onto the bus in Shinjuku. It was ideal for people who didn't want to leave their families hanging or for those who were completely alone. Nino thought he was kind of a combination of both.

Inagaki had prepared everything Nino needed to sign in a manila envelope. All he had to do was fill in bank account numbers, stamp them and date them. Inagaki excused himself with a small, polite smile so Nino could examine everything. He and Jun were named jointly on their apartment lease, on an emergency credit card. His name would be quietly removed from the accounts, his other accounts closed or rolled over into another. His personal effects would be boxed up and sold while Jun was at work. No need to leave all those games lying around or any other reminders. Jun could get a complete break.

There were next of kin forms, who to notify of his death. There were options for obituary notices in the paper - Inagaki-san had even drafted a few that noted Nino's birth and death dates, his place of employment, his heroism. He could even arrange for flowers to be sent to the grandparents he never saw, to his aunt's family. There were more expensive packages noted on their website - professional mourners could even be hired if his next of kin chose to hold a funeral.

He designated for all of his money to be transferred to Matsumoto Jun, 30 August 1983, #682620931732 of Tokyo, who would not be notified of this until May 27th. Not that Nino had this surplus of cash or anything, but maybe Jun could finally replace those chairs in the kitchen. The forms asked him to note his relationship to the person receiving all his money. The options were: SPOUSE; CHILD; PARENT; CHARITY; BUSINESS; OTHER FAMILY; FRIEND; OTHER.

He smirked at FRIEND for a few moments before designating OTHER with a quick scratch of the pen.

Everything signed and in order, he opened the door and Inagaki came over, quick and professional. He eyeballed all the paperwork, and if he had any curiosity about Nino's OTHER, he didn't voice it.

"Would you like a copy of everything you've signed today, Ninomiya-san?"

He scratched his head, getting out of his chair with a wave of his hand. "Nah, you'll keep all the copies here?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't need them, it's fine."

"Very well then," Inagaki said, bowing to him respectfully. "You have my card, and someone can be reached twenty-four hours a day in case of last minute changes. Don't hesitate to call. We understand what a difficult time this is."

Said the collections agent to the dead man.

"Thank you," Nino said politely, heading for the exit. He used the public restroom on the ground floor of Midtown Tower to change into slacks, a dress shirt, and tie before taking the elevator up to the Ritz-Carlton on the 45th floor. 

He smiled at the woman at the front desk. "Ballroom Three please? I'm here for the Takenaka-Komori wedding. I'm on the list, Ninomiya?"

She confirmed his place there with a polite smile, gesturing to the elevator banks. "One flight up to the 46th floor, Ninomiya-san. Thank you."

He smiled in return. He'd watched enough movies by now that he figured he was just as good an actor as any of the stars. The reception was already in full swing with music playing and the plates cleared. Couples were up dancing, others were going table to table to mingle. So it made it less suspicious for him to wander into the room in search of the father of the bride. 

He found Takenaka Naoto at the bar. He was a short man with a gruff voice, and he embraced Nino as soon as he approached. "So happy you could make it!"

The other guests didn't even question his arrival, so pleased was Takenaka-san to see him. This made it easier for the two of them to slip away from the bar area, laughing like old friends until they made it outside to the balcony. It was a fine view, Nino had to admit. He could see Tokyo Tower and the bay beyond from here. Must have cost Takenaka a fortune, but when one's only daughter was getting married it appeared that no expense need be spared.

Once the door was closed, Takenaka was all business. "We've had our eyes on the terminal for the past three weeks," he explained, leaning back against the railing. "Nobody's being allowed jackets. Security is cracking down. They've started looking for pills, knives, anything suspicious. Do you plan to sneak anything in with you?"

Takenaka had been the head of the Yokohama Risers cohort throughout the 80's and 90's before relocating to Tokyo. He was the head of a construction company, and though he'd finally been forced to hold back on donations to the movement because of government prying, his was one of the most respected voices and opinions. Any ops had to be run past him.

"I was thinking a knife in my shoe or taped to my back," he admitted, knowing it was what Takenaka wanted him to say. Nobody knew what to actually expect on the inside. There was always the probability of them having metal detectors. Maybe they'd shoot him on sight.

"Put it in your shoe. In case there's pat downs when you arrive."

There was so much they didn't know, but Nino didn't much care at this point. He wasn't a murderer, but he'd do whatever he could to get a message out, to find a way to communicate with the outside. "We're all praying for your success," Takenaka said, and Nino almost wanted to believe him.

Here he was, just some loser who pressed Play at the local cinema who'd now managed to get everyone's attention. It was an odd feeling, being hailed as a potential hero of the movement. Before he'd been nobody, just another angry youth fed up with the government. Then there'd been his questionable relationship and his refusal to use what he had for the greater good. But now he was a sacrificial lamb, a martyr worthy of admiration and an invite to the wedding of Takenaka Naoto's daughter.

When he was younger, Nino thought it would have been in the government's best interest to rig the lottery, kill off the Risers one hundred at a time until they died out. But here they were almost fifty years later, still around and wanting to fight the unwinnable fight. Surely the government knew or had their suspicions about who was involved. But the potential of something going wrong was too high. They couldn't let a Riser in - they were too unpredictable. No, the government liked to pick people a little more docile once they walked into the slaughterhouse.

But, Nino thought, there was a first time for everything.

\---

In a few days the man from Channel One would be coming to Paradise Circus. Aiba hoped that it would make a difference, showing what it was really like on the inside. His parents had raised him to question, to not believe everything the TV said. They weren't dissenters or Risers or anything, but they were smart. Killing people so Japan wouldn't get bombed might have made sense in the 60's, especially when all the pictures of America had been burned into people's minds. But even now the news broadcast every night reminded Japan that it was right to send people to Paradise Circus, that it was the only way to remain free. 

He sometimes wondered about the man from the news. He was about Aiba's age, and he imagined that they couldn't be more different from one another. Sakurai Sho was always making those lists of the most eligible bachelors in Japan, though Aiba's mother was a bit more cynical. "Who would want to marry the man who reads the names?" she always said, pitying the sharply dressed newscaster with the handsome face. "He's like the Grim Reaper!"

Sometimes Aiba wondered if Sakurai Sho was just a hologram or a robot, something the government had cooked up. But that was only because Aiba didn't understand how someone could read such sad stuff every night of the week and not just cry. Maybe it was a skill they taught in newscaster school.

He and Ohno were just finishing up second shift, cleaning up the last room they were assigned to. Things had changed between them, at least since that day in the pool. From day one, Aiba had tried to be like Ohno, someone who could get through it all. But he'd learned that no matter how long you'd worked at Paradise Circus, whether it was a month or a decade, the place would always be terrible. And on some days you'd just get a sharper reminder of it.

He thought he'd seen Ohno pocket a letter or two from some of the desks in the rooms that night, maybe a picture. It was reckless and against the rules, and Aiba knew he could be fired simply for not reporting it. But he thought of Ohno in that shower room, his voice completely cracked and screaming like he was the one being killed. He knew Ohno would never report him. So Aiba would never report Ohno in return.

He wondered what Sakurai Sho from the news would be reporting about. Would he help them lift the body bags? Or would he just stand there and watch?

Once Murakami-kun was satisfied, second shift was released. It had taken a little longer tonight on account of two bathroom suicides. That required hazmat gear and more extensive cleaning, though thankfully it had fallen to other employees in the hotel. 

He and Ohno took the path down to the Village. It was after 2:00 AM by then, and it was hard to believe that in just five hours it would be starting up again with Naka-san beaming and greeting the guests as though they'd just arrived for the vacation of a lifetime. Ohno weakly whispered good night and headed for his house while Aiba followed Koyama-kun inside (fortunate since Aiba had forgotten his house key).

To his surprise, Shihori was at the kitchen table in the dark, staring out the windows at the courtyard. He'd only been able to tell it was her because of the light in the entryway hall. It was so late, and her shift would be starting in a few hours. Koyama headed up the stairs and out of sight as Aiba entered the kitchen, pulling out one of the chairs to sit beside her.

They didn't speak for a few minutes. All he could do was sit there and stare at her face, the dim glow from the lights in the courtyard keeping her mostly in shadow. 

"They killed my friend today," she said quietly, and he held his breath. "She wasn't my best friend or anything, but we went to junior high and high school together. I saw her this morning when I got to the reading room. She was in the lobby, looking the other way. I don't think she saw me at all, and I couldn't say anything."

"Couldn't you have been reassigned?" he asked. "For the day? Conflict of interest?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't have wanted to. I wanted to be there for her, I wanted to support her. I pulled out some magazines, the kind we always read when we went to the Lawson after school. She was really into One Piece, or she was back then. I set out every volume we have in the reading room. She didn't end up coming, but I did what was in my power. I was ready, just in case she needed me."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I," she said honestly, and when he moved to take her hand, entwining their fingers on the cheap plastic tabletop, she didn't pull away. 

They sat for a few minutes more until she squeezed his hand tightly, still staring out at the courtyard. He seemed to understand without words as they got out of the chairs, leaving the dull hum of the kitchen refrigerator behind as they climbed the stairs up to their floor. She needed him, needed to forget for a little while.

She'd left her door unlocked, their hands still connected as she led him inside. He listened to her twist the lock, and then he reached for her, finding her in the dark stillness of the room. Her mouth was soft, and her body softer still when she shrugged her way out of the t-shirt and shorts she'd worn in the kitchen. He was still in his work clothes, and her small fingers brushed his clumsy ones aside, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops.

The dorky sweater vest was next, and she tugged on his tie to pull him closer. He wrapped his arms around her bared shoulders, sliding aside the straps of her bra. He tripped over a few manga volumes on the floor, and she laughed. It was the first bit of happiness he suspected that either of them had enjoyed all day. She helped him out of the rest of his clothes, and they found their way to her bed.

She turned on the small lamp at her bedside table. "I want to see you," she said before kissing him again. 

They were surrounded by so much death, so much sadness, so he reveled in life, reveled in her, in the way she closed her eyes and sighed as he kissed his way from her neck to the warm sweetness between her legs. He looked up, resting his cheek on her thigh, seeing her eyes shut tight and laughed at her. "I thought you wanted to see me?"

"Changed my mind the second you went south of my navel, sorry."

"Apology accepted."

They took it slow in a way Aiba was unaccustomed to, having never before realized just how precious times like these could be. Paradise Circus had taught him a great many things. He'd shed so many tears since he'd begun working here, but having her beneath him left him feeling euphoric. The soft curves of her body were the opposite of his lanky limbs, but they seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. She couldn't, wouldn't let him go, arching her hips up and against him and humming in his ear until it drove him over the edge. 

Even when it was over, he needed to be close to her, trailing his fingers up and down her arms, burying his face against her neck.

"Masaki," she said with a chuckle, stroking his hair. He was sweaty and gross, and she didn't push him away. He'd had girlfriends before who seemed to want him as far away as possible or at least straight off to the shower after they'd had sex, but she just twisted his hair between her fingers. She was too busy testing out the sound of his name on her tongue. "Ma-sa-ki."

"Am I too heavy?" he mumbled against her skin, trying to hold in a yawn.

She laughed, and he felt her whole body shake beneath him. 

"What?" he asked, poking her. "What did I say?"

"Nothing," she said. He perked up his head, seeing how swollen her lips were from his kisses. "Nothing."

"Do you want me to go back to my room? You have to be up early..."

"Do you _want_ to go back to your room?"

"Nope." He moved so he could curl up behind her, hand circling around her waist as they tried to get comfortable on her single mattress. "But I snore. Maybe I should have said that before...sorry."

"I snore, too. Maybe we could make it a competition." She leaned over to turn off the light, pulling her sheet up to cover them both. "Are you falling asleep on me already?"

She fit against him perfectly, and he didn't want to move a muscle. "...yes."

"I guess I can forgive you," she said, yawning herself. "I'm a nice person that way."

"Mmm," he said, moving his hand down her abdomen. "Yes, very nice. Shihori is the nicest."

"You're not allowed to fall asleep with your hand there."

"I'm not?" he asked, disobeying her anyway.

"You're awful," he heard her mumble, heard her sharp intake of breath. "Really awful."

He just grinned and fluttered his fingers against her, letting the sounds of her happiness carry him off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Her apartment was nearly empty, save for a few boxes and some furniture that a moving company would be responsible for picking up the day after tomorrow. Sho couldn't help but feel as though he was intruding. Wasn't it enough that he would be accompanying Kitagawa-san tomorrow, documenting her every move on her final day?

But the network had insisted and her agency had been all for it. Kimura had been at that meeting, pulling Sho aside afterwards. "Of course the agency wants it. Do you have any idea how much money they'll be able to make off of her image when she's dead? Special edition DVDs and commemorative fan charms and all sorts of shit. It's in every actor's contract. Hell, even a talento doing one variety appearance a week has a clause like that. They'll be more successful dead than they ever could be alive."

It had made Sho sick, especially now because he was in the woman's apartment with a full camera crew and a man in a suit from Foreign Affairs. He didn't get the impression that Kitagawa Keiko was thrilled to be partaking in any of this. Her stylist had chosen to dress her down in a t-shirt and jeans, her hair in a simple ponytail. Light poured in through the window, leaving a glow around her. Accessible, human, young, beautiful. Could there be a more perfect sacrifice?

Sho went over his notecards in preparation for their interview, watching Kitagawa-san patiently sit across from him as a makeup artist fussed over her face. Was it too much makeup? Too little? Did she look natural? Should she look a bit more glamorous?

Finally, Keiko-san smiled and waved the makeup artist away. "We're keeping Sakurai-san waiting," she said calmly, even as her hands clung almost desperately to the arms of her chair. 

"It's no problem at all," he replied as the camera crew did their final checks. Tomorrow it would just be him, Keiko-san, and the cameraman, Yasuda-kun. Tomorrow would be far more honest, Sho needed it to be. 

He glanced down at his cards, looking at the stupid questions another time. Each question had been run past a government official and then past Keiko's agency. What was your favorite project as an actor? Are you proud to ensure Japan's continued freedom with your sacrifice? What message do you have for your fans? He stared at the cards again and again until his eyes blurred.

He'd already pre-recorded the Freedom segment for the next few days, the same as he did on weekends and when he had vacation time. Keiko-san was the only work he had now.

The cameras started to roll. Sho obediently asked his questions, and Keiko obediently gave the answers her agency wanted her to give. She was charming and calm, and Sho found himself laughing where he was supposed to laugh, nodding solemnly where he was expected to. Kimura gave him the signal, telling him to ask his last question and wrap things up. 

He knew what was written on the card, the message for her fans. Kimura and the crew knew it, Keiko was waiting for it. He met her eyes and saw something there that tore his heart in half. It was like she was begging for this to all be over, to stop the charade, the rehearsed answers. 

_Sakurai-san_ , her eyes were pleading with him, _help me_.

He leaned forward, and the cards fell from his lap to scatter across the floor. He could see Kimura out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't calling for a cut yet. He wanted to see what Sho was doing. The man from the government looked suspicious.

He panicked for a brief moment, worrying about his hands being sweaty. But he ignored it and took her hands in his own. He could have heard a pin drop in the room, and he thought they'd call the whole thing off. But damn them, Sho thought. Damn them for putting her through this.

"Keiko-chan," he said, dropping his interviewer voice and giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. He was encouraged a thousandfold when she squeezed back. "Let me ask you one last thing."

She nodded.

"How do you feel," he asked her, "right at this moment? How are you feeling?"

They were going to stop him. They were going to erase the footage or edit it, and he was finished. All of the questions he'd asked her before had nothing to do with what Keiko was truly going through. It was about her work or her hobbies or her fans, all the things she was leaving behind. Everything Keiko the celebrity was leaving behind. Nobody seemed that concerned about Keiko the person.

"I've never been so afraid in my entire life," she replied, squeezing his hand so hard he thought his bones would crack. The tears in her eyes were real, not to garner the sympathy of her fans. "Sakurai-san, I'm scared."

"What do you think about Paradise Circus? What do you think about being chosen?"

She was skilled enough to keep her face calm, but her eyes were a different story. He watched her fall apart. "The same thing everybody thinks," she said. "Why me?"

"And that's a cut," Kimura said, and Sho and Keiko jumped, their hands separating as though they'd received an electric shock.

She wiped her tears messily, her makeup starting to smear. "I'm sorry, please excuse me," she muttered, getting up from her seat and hurrying off to the washroom, the team from her agency trailing behind.

The government man said nothing, watching the crew wrap things up. Sho couldn't find the energy to move, staying in the chair with his notecards scattered at his feet. He heard rather than saw Kimura crouch down next to him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Being a journalist," he heard himself say, and there was an almost phantom feeling of Keiko's hands still in his own.

"Well," Kimura said, patting him on the shoulder. "You're either the dumbest son of a bitch I've ever met or the bravest." The producer's mouth was right next to his ear so nobody could listen in. "Whatever happens tomorrow, we're all behind you."

And then he got up, walking up to the government agent and offering apologies. Sho stared at the crew around him, the people who helped lie or sugarcoat the truth for the viewers every night. He stared at Kimura-san, who always seemed to resent his existence. They were all behind him; they wanted the truth about Paradise Circus just as badly as everyone else did.

He got out of the chair, heading through the apartment to find Kitagawa's team fussing over her in the near-empty bedroom. "Could I speak with Keiko-san for a moment please? It's about tomorrow."

They cleared the room, and he closed the door. She patted the bare mattress she was sitting on, encouraging him to sit beside her. "They could arrest you for that, for what you asked me."

"I know," he said, wondering if word was already getting back to his father that he wasn't playing by the rules. His father's long years of preparation, and he might unravel it all.

"So why did you?" she asked him.

Tomorrow he'd get on board the bus with the woman beside him, a woman he'd only just met that day. Neither of them knew what was truly waiting for them inside Paradise Circus. Tomorrow Keiko-san would enter with Sho and the cameraman at her side. She'd go in and never come out again.

"Because it was the right thing to do."

\---

They'd made arrangements for Jun to spend the night at the command center. Well, not just for him. Every man and woman on Paradise Duty was on call for the following day. They weren't taking any chances - they wanted everyone on the premises when the buses arrived in the morning.

They'd only decided it around 1500 hours that day, and Jun had probably left Nino a dozen voicemails, using the direct phone lines in the command center. They were usually discouraged from making personal calls, but they'd allowed for exceptions this time. Nino was probably at The Vista with his phone turned off, shaking salt onto a freshly popped batch of popcorn. He sometimes envied Nino's job, the normalcy of it. Jun's entire working life had been spent in the Self-Defense Force, and he didn't know anything else.

He was doing his final rounds of the command center where he and Sakurai and Sakurai's cameraman would be sequestered after the hotel was on lockdown. Tomorrow would be the longest day of Jun's life, he suspected, and not just because he would be on duty from sunrise to midnight.

He'd seen every single inch of the building, places few other members of the Ground Unit saw. He'd been down in the burn room for the first time. The bones weren't returned to the families for a reason, Jun had learned. Paradise killed 100 people a day, people who would have been vaporized completely in the event of an attack. It symbolized on a far smaller scale what total war could really mean, even if the populace at large would never know. The burn room was off limits to Sakurai Sho.

He'd been in the gas control room for the first time too. It was an empty room with three switches on the wall. Three of the higher ranking members of the Self-Defense Force, higher even than Lieutenant Katori, manned those switches. The first time to release the sleeping gas, the second to release the poison. Nobody knew which switch was the one to release the deadly gas. It was to help with the guilt, the government man had said. 

Jun returned to the command center lobby, finding Katori waiting for him. "Matsumoto!" he called, waving Jun over. He pushed a folder at him. "Tomorrow's names. On account of your special circumstances."

The names list was usually posted in the command center just before their morning meeting when Katori went over any problem cases. Any criminals that might be entering the premises. Any small children that needed special attention throughout the day. Jun accepted the file with a nod. It was privileged treatment, getting the names early.

"Number 63 on the list was convicted of tax evasion, but they didn't give us any dirt on the others. Should be a relatively normal day, all things considered," Katori said.

He opened the folder, seeing the papers with each guest's name, age, city of origin. He skimmed the list, seeing that Kitagawa Keiko's name had been placed at the very top. He slid his finger down the names, looking for Mr. Tax Evasion 63, and then he stopped.

"No," he exhaled quietly.

"Everything in order?" Katori asked curiously.

Jun swallowed, shutting the folder. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Katori patted him on the back and headed off, leaving Jun with the names. As soon as his superior was out of sight, Jun took off, hurrying for the outside, for some sunlight. For some air. He burst through the door and out into the sunshine, startling the woman guarding the door. But she smiled at him as soon as he looked her way. He'd become quite the celebrity in the Ground Unit on account of his special assignment.

He walked away from the building, folder clenched tightly between his fingers. He walked to the gardens in the northern end of the facility, not caring that his perfectly shined boots were trouncing through the mud churned up by last night's rain. There were no guests around. The nice day had made the Midway popular. He collapsed onto the garden bench next to the koi pond, breathing erratic as he watched the giant fish swim around within it. 

He'd been wrong. He'd misread it. It was just a mistake, a simple mistake.

He held the folder in his lap, knowing he had to open it again, see the name listed at number 59, just another name among one hundred. It couldn't be him. It wasn't him. Surely he would have said something...

He took a deep breath and opened the folder, the characters of all the names swimming around on the crisp, white paper. "Focus," he said aloud. "Focus." He read the list again, every single name. From number one Kitagawa Keiko, 25, from Tokyo to number one hundred Yamane Seiji, 74, from Asahikawa.

And every single time his heart seemed to stop at number 59: Ninomiya Kazunari. 28. Tokyo. He read it over and over again. Four characters. 28. Tokyo. Ninomiya Kazunari. 28. Tokyo. Number 59. Ninomiya...

"No," he muttered in frustration, slamming the folder shut.

The koi swam, the Midway music continued to drift through the air, and the gates of Paradise Circus kept Jun in. He had an important role to play tomorrow. Every bit of protocol, his head was full of everything he needed to know. And bit by bit it slipped away from him, replaced with panic, replaced with anger. Ninomiya Kazunari. 28. Tokyo.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked the folder in his hands uselessly. "I could have..."

What? He could have what? There was nothing he could have done. And maybe that's why Nino had said nothing. He'd taken it all on himself, knowing what was to come. And all Jun had done was work, worry about how to be the most obedient soldier there would ever be. Completely fucking oblivious.

He imagined Nino wandering the Midway. But he probably wouldn't. He hated rides. He imagined Nino wandering the hotel, the door to his room shutting him in for good. "It's okay, Jun-kun," Nino would say. He'd use that quiet, gentle voice he always did when he compromised, when he was trying to calm Jun down if they had a disagreement. "It's okay."

Jun had spent his entire life wanting to be good. In relationships and his work. Wanting to prove to others that he was competent, that he was capable. That he was trustworthy and loyal. But now it didn't seem to matter. He couldn't let that door close, couldn't let the room seal up with Nino inside. In nine months it had never been right, but Paradise Circus had just been the way of things. But now Nino would be here, on these grounds, and Jun realized for the first time that Paradise Circus was wrong.

His mind was flooding with the emotions he tried so very hard to tamp down, to keep under control. It was one of the first things they'd taught in basic training. The men and women of the Self-Defense Force were often first responders in emergencies, in disasters. They were taught to keep a cool head, to keep personal feelings at bay or they couldn't function. They couldn't save lives if they panicked. And yet at Paradise Circus he didn't save anyone's life. If anything, he ensured that they died. It was a contradiction he'd ignored for nine long months, even on those long lonely nights wandering the gardens and thinking of his other life, his normal life at home with Nino.

If Nino was gone, there was nothing to go home to. He was able to function at Paradise because Nino was at home with his stupid games and his messy dishes in the sink and his towels on the bathroom floor. The civilian staff, they were trapped here. No wonder they cried like Aiba Masaki, no wonder they were numb like Ohno Satoshi. They couldn't have what Jun had and had taken for granted.

It would be impossible to save Nino. It was impossible to even imagine it. Every part of him was saying no, which made Jun realize that he had to say yes.

His whole life, Jun had needed a plan. But plans needed time, and that was the one thing he was lacking the most. But then again, what was a little treason when the person you loved the most was in danger?

\---

Of all the people in the Paradise complex, the last person Ohno expected to meet him outside House 3 with panic in his eyes at 1:45 AM was Corporal Matsumoto Jun. Tomorrow was the big day when Kitagawa-san and Sakurai-san from the news would be on the grounds. Given the late hour, he was surprised that Matsumoto wasn't fast asleep at the command center.

"Ohno-san," the man said, voice sounding desperate. Was this really the same Matsumoto who helped him and Aiba-chan on so many shifts, the perfect soldier? "Ohno-san, can we talk?"

He couldn't imagine the pressure the man was under, having to escort the press around, and he couldn't say no. He unlocked the door, gesturing for Matsumoto to come inside. He waited while Jun unlaced his boots with shaking fingers, leaving them in the entryway. There were a few other people from second shift at the kitchen table, winding down with a few beers after the long evening.

"In your room," Jun said nervously. "If you don't mind."

He led Jun upstairs, unlocking the door to his room and switching on the lights. "Come on in, then."

They sat down at the small table on the floor next to his bed, Matsumoto refusing the cushion Ohno offered him. "I know we're not close," Jun said, eyes burning with an odd, uncharacteristic intensity, "but there's nobody else in this place I can talk to. No one else I can trust."

"Trust with what?" Ohno asked nervously.

"Someone I love was picked in the lottery," he admitted quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"And you...you and Aiba-san, you're working second shift tomorrow, right?"

He nodded, a little alarmed by the trajectory of Jun's questioning. "We are."

"His name is..." Jun's voice seemed to catch in his throat, as though the words were nearly impossible to say. "If I tell you his name, could you keep him safe? You and Aiba-san? Could you watch him for me?"

"We have assignments, Aiba-chan and me," he said gently. "You of all people should know that."

Jun's hand on the table became a shaking fist. "I can't...I can't do this on my own, Ohno-san..."

He leaned forward, utterly confused, but he rested his hand on top of Jun's fist. Someone Jun loved...but who wasn't on the list as immediate family? Jun had no wedding ring, had referred to this person as "him." His worry, his erratic behavior started to make a little more sense. But even still, there was something else going on. 

"Can't do what, Jun-kun? What are you trying to ask me?"

"Tomorrow," Jun said with that same strange look in his eyes. "I'm going to find a way to save him. But I need your help."

"What do you mean save him?" Ohno asked, his heart starting to race. Jun was smart, Jun was loyal. What was he thinking? "You can't be serious!"

"I've never been so serious in my entire life."

"There are cameras," Ohno reminded him. He wondered if they put listening devices in civilian rooms. He'd never thought of it much before, but only because he'd never had someone plotting treason against government decree within his four walls. "He has to go inside the room."

"So he'll go inside then," Jun said. His foot was shaking, thumping against the floor. He couldn't sit still, so palpable was his grief and worry. "He'll go inside. They showed me, you know. Because I have to walk Sakurai around. They showed me every inch of this place. They showed me the room. The room where they send off the gas. It's three people who won't be expecting anything. So if you, me, and Aiba-san prepare..."

"Hold on a second," Ohno interrupted. "Who said we're getting involved here? I don't care about me, but Aiba-chan only just started here. He's trying to protect his family. We hate Paradise as much as anyone but..."

"I can't let him die!" Jun cried out, pounding his fist on the table hard enough to make Ohno jump. "Do you get that? Do you understand that? I can't let him die."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Jun barely able to keep it together and Ohno's heart flooding with memories of the last ten years of his life. All the people he'd let go to their deaths without so much as a farewell. Ten years of strangers, and this person Jun wanted to save...he was a stranger, too. So why do something now? Why after all this time would he make an exception?

He was so close to the end of his contract, so close to getting back into the world. Back to a normal life, to start anew. If he helped Jun and it all went south, there'd be no normal life. There'd be no life at all. Because he'd be dead.

"I'm not a strong person," Jun admitted. "I'm a hypocrite, wanting to save Nino's life when I've been looking the other way for months. I know that. But I've got clearance, I can go anywhere tomorrow. And for him, I will."

He had a name now. Nino was a person Jun needed to save. With a name, it made it harder. Even now in the small closet in his room Ohno had a box full of letters. Just something stupid, something reckless he'd been doing the past week or so, ever since the pool. All those letters that never got home. Every letter had a name, both to and from. The letters said "I'm sorry, please forgive me." "Please take care of our children." "Don't forget me."

The letters said "I love you."

They weren't Ohno's to claim, but they were burned into nothing along with the people who wrote them. Now he had a box full of them. People he couldn't save. People he didn't save. Ohno Satoshi wasn't a hero, and he never would be. But he was a lifeguard, he thought bitterly. Possibly the worst one in the history of the profession. Didn't he owe it to them to at least try?

"Let me talk to Aiba-san."

\---

He'd been sitting on the bench for at least three hours. The sun had been up for about an hour, and he saw that more people were starting to arrive. The bus terminal had strong security. Cameras, men in the same fatigues and heavy boots Jun toted around in his bag every day. 

Nino had parked himself just outside of the perimeter they kept. It was 5:48 AM on his last day alive, and his cell phone battery was dying. It was his own fault, of course. He hadn't seen much need to charge it the day before, but he'd probably listened to his voicemail a few hundred times by now. There was only so much a little phone battery could take.

As passengers headed for other buses and the train station, Nino stayed alone on the bench watching people arrive for Paradise Circus. Two normal-looking passenger buses had arrived around 4:00 AM, and the military types had been over every inch of them before they started clearing people to board. They were allowed to board as soon as they arrived now and showed their lottery papers. There was no point in milling around.

So he watched them board, and each time the computerized voice on his phone prompted him to replay his saved messages, he pressed the button to hear Jun's voice again.

"Hey, it's me. We've got a big day at work tomorrow, and they're keeping us all overnight. Then I'll be here all day tomorrow. I haven't had time to shop, I'm really sorry. If you eat ramen cups for two days straight, I'll know. Well, that's it. See you soon."

"To replay your saved messages," Nino's phone said, "press seven now."

He pressed seven.

And again and again he played it, the last message. He loved everything about it. The vague way Jun talked about his work. His apology. His teasing. It was so calm, so perfectly him. It was the voice that chided him for leaving clothes on the line during a downpour, the voice that welcomed him home. Maybe he'd see Jun at Paradise Circus, maybe he wouldn't. But that person wasn't the Jun he knew, the Jun he loved and would never see again.

He pressed seven again even as the phone beeped at him in panic, urging him to plug it into the charger he hadn't brought. No cell phones at Paradise Circus. He listened to Jun, shutting out Shinjuku around him, the exhaust from the other buses, the chatter of oblivious passengers not realizing which bus would soon head out from stop number 17.

It was time, and Nino knew it. Time for his last bus ride. Time for the blindfold and the cigarette or maybe the giant death ray.

He sighed and got up off the bench. He'd skipped the knife in his shoe, but let Takenaka Naoto think he'd gone off to Paradise Circus ready to slash the throats of anyone who got in his way. He'd sound much braver, much more interesting that way. He walked to the cordoned-off area around stop 17, even as the phone beeped pathetically and took Jun's voice away.

"No cell phones," one of the men said when Nino approached, his lottery papers in hand. "I'm sorry, sir, no cell phones."

"Of course," he said, tossing it into a trash can obediently before he queued up behind an elderly woman. Goodbye, Jun.

The first bus was closed up already, full. Nino was patted down and directed to the second bus. Everyone had sat alone so far, and it was almost tempting to find the nearest person and sit beside them, share the fear and resignation between them. Instead he headed for the empty row toward the back and took a seat.

At some point a driver boarded, turning on the bus engine. Nino stared out the window, taking in the sights. He saw the bench he'd abandoned, kept watching it as other people filed onto the bus and filled in the empty seats. What surprised him was when the guy from the news, Sakurai Sho, boarded the bus a few minutes later behind Kitagawa Keiko. She'd been in a samurai movie a few months back, a film about duty and loyalty and things the Japanese government believed were the most important virtues.

There was a third guy behind them, a guy with a video camera. The people on the bus started whispering amongst themselves as the odd combination moved up the aisle, heading for the back row just behind Nino that had stayed empty. He found himself meeting Kitagawa Keiko's eyes, knowing that the last time he'd seen her she was in a kimono and had been killed by her lover's enemy. He remembered the way the blood was trickling from her mouth, how her face had looked from his vantage point in the projectionist's room. Fake blood, of course. 

A member of the Self-Defense Force boarded the bus, then a second and a third. They each had assault rifles strapped to their backs. Jun never left in the morning with an assault rifle. Nino felt a shiver run down his spine as Kitagawa Keiko and the other two men sat down behind him.

"Good morning," one of the soldiers said. "We'll be departing momentarily. Please remain calm."

As long as they had high-powered guns in easy reach, Nino figured everyone would keep quiet.

He could hear a few whispers, no doubt about the VIPs now sitting in the rear of the vehicle. It was a sad state of affairs when the man who read the names of the dead was on the bus heading for the end of the line. Maybe it was karma. Nino didn't dare turn around and stare, but the guy had looked different from the news. He was in a suit just like on TV, but there was no pride, no smiles for the camera. He looked exhausted.

So what was with the guy with the camera?

The bus got into motion, pulling out of the Shinjuku terminal and following the first bus along the road. They went north past Ikebukuro before turning west, foregoing the highway in favor of local roads.They left Toshima, entered Nerima, the buses navigating through the streets as if there was nothing odd about it at all. It seemed as though Paradise Circus wasn't very far away. Maybe it had been right under everyone's noses for half a century.

"Keiko-san," he heard behind him. It was Sakurai Sho's voice. He was keeping it down, but Nino could hear him anyhow. "How do you feel, being on this bus right now?"

"Tired," he heard the actress say. "I didn't get any sleep last night. Not that I expected to."

"As I look out the window," Sakurai said, almost as though he was narrating one of his morbid news segments, "we're in Nerima Ward, getting closer to the border with Saitama Prefecture. Yasuda-kun, see if you can zoom in on the street signs."

The man with the video camera sounded scared. "Sakurai-san, they said it wasn't allowed."

"Film it anyway."

"Sakurai-san..."

"I take full responsibility. You won't get in trouble, you have my word."

Nino pulled his legs up onto the bus seat, hugging them against his chest. It sounded like Sakurai was filming a documentary on Paradise Circus. If he was one of the people chosen in the lottery, he'd be dead at the end of the day and giving the cameraman his word would mean very little. So it was a special event. And it rang true with Jun's voicemail - a big day at work tomorrow. This, Kitagawa Keiko and a news crew, this was the big day. 

They pulled off the main road into what looked like a forest preserve, the edges of the road lined with NO TRESPASSING signs. A few minutes later the bus made it to a large gate, built into high cement walls topped with barbed wire. "Welcome to Paradise Circus" declared a banner at the gate, and Nino's bus followed the other into the facility. He could hear an awful screeching behind them then. The gate was closing, locking him in, and he heard someone else on the bus burst into tears. Sakurai remained mercifully quiet.

They were in a parking lot, Nino realized as the bus pulled alongside the other. There were colorful banners hanging all around. "Welcome Heroes," they said. He could see an amusement park just beyond the parking lot, confusion and fear raising the hairs on his arms. What the hell was this place? The driver killed the engine, and the bus door opened with a noisy whoosh of air.

"I don't want to get out," a woman in front of him was murmuring to her seatmate. "I can't move. I simply can't move."

The three Self-Defense Force men stood, demanding their attention at the front of the bus. "We will be offloading in just a moment. Thank you for your continued patience and cooperation. If Kitagawa-san and her party could please come forward?"

The murmurs and hushed voices started up anew as he heard rustling movement behind him. Nino watched as Kitagawa, Sakurai, and Yasuda the cameraman walked slowly forward through the bus. One of the other passengers grasped for Kitagawa's arm as she passed by.

"Keiko-chan, I've always been your fan!"

"Let them through," the man at the front shouted, but Kitagawa stopped anyway to shake hands with the young woman who'd called her name before moving along again. Nino could see a formation of soldiers standing at attention in the lot. Were these men taking them off to the firing squad? Were they the firing squad? Where was Jun?

He saw Jun soon enough, feeling angry tears form in the corner of his eyes as Kitagawa and her party stepped down from the bus. He was there waiting for them in his perfect uniform, the picture of seriousness, and he bowed to Kitagawa before shaking hands with Sakurai and Yasuda. Special treatment, Nino figured. Celebrities at Paradise Circus were a big deal. But he could see some hesitation on Jun's part as Sakurai directed Yasuda to turn his camera on again. His shoulders tensed. It was so obvious. Or maybe Nino just knew Jun too well.

He wanted to stand up, shout Jun's name, bang his fists against the bus window. But that was far too dramatic for Nino's taste. Instead he watched Jun turn, escorting the three of them out of the parking lot. They disappeared around a corner, gone.

Then the buses were emptied, Nino following the rest of the nervous, distraught Paradise Circus "guests" into the parking lot. Another soldier introduced himself as Lieutenant Katori, wishing them all a cheerful good morning that made Nino want to puke. Maybe he should have brought that knife. The man took a roll call, and when Nino's name was called he raised his hand just as obediently as everyone else. He was suddenly glad that Jun had already gone on ahead. Maybe he could get through this without having to see him.

Everyone was split into groups of five. Nino was placed with a middle-aged man and three older women to be looked over by a tall soldier who introduced himself as Corporal Oguri. "We want to make this day as calm and pleasant as it can be," Oguri said. He went on to explain the different areas of the compound, gave them a curfew to return to the hotel on the hill, and Nino couldn't think of anything to say. He thought Paradise Circus was made of holding cells and secret chambers. Instead they expected him to pretend he was on vacation. 

"Are there any questions?" Oguri asked, fingers hovering protectively over the sidearm holstered at his waist.

"When do they kill us?" one of the old women asked. "You can tell us. We'd be better knowing, wouldn't we?"

Oguri just shook his head. "Return to the Paradise Hotel at 7:00 PM promptly. Thank you for your cooperation."

The women followed the Corporal from the lot, dogging him with questions. The man in the group wandered off in a daze, leaving Nino alone as the other groups started to disperse. Music started up from the little theme park. This was Jun's life every day? This was the government's way of killing them off? Killing with kindness?

He could see cameras, and the barbed wire around the facility was going to keep him in. He wondered if it would even be possible to start a little anarchy. Didn't seem too likely. He left the parking lot and the buses behind and wasn't paying attention when someone took hold of his arm.

He stopped in his tracks, thinking it was a soldier come to haul him away, that they'd known all along he was in the Riser movement. Instead it was a man about his height.

"Are you Nino?"

He was in what seemed to be an employee uniform rather than fatigues. The man's grip tightened on his wrist. "Are you Nino?" he asked again.

"Yes. Yes, I am," he answered nervously.

"My name's Ohno," the man said quietly. "Ohno Satoshi. Tell me what I can do to help you today."

\---

We have been charged with a sacred duty. When your ten years of civilian service have come to an end, the work of those still employed continues on. It is of utmost importance that you refrain from engaging in discussion of your work at Paradise upon the completion of your contract. The safety and preservation of the Paradise Project ensures the safety and preservation of the Japanese nation.

You are to decline any sort of interview with any member of the news media upon the end of your service contract. The Union of Former Paradise Employees was created to oversee any problems that may arise in your return to civilian life. If at any time you are approached and asked to describe your work, fellow staff, guests, or anything related to Paradise Circus, please report the solicitation to the Union immediately. 

From the _Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual_ , Chapter Nine: Your Life After The Service.

\---

The tunnel that ran between the Paradise Hotel and the command center was dark at 8:30 in the morning. The tunnel was mostly in service at night when the body bags were ferried across its concrete floors to wherever they were disposed of in the command center. There had never been a smell, not a hint of burning bodies. It was a sophisticated air filtration system, Matsumoto had explained. State of the art, technology imported from Shanghai.

The tunnel was used to move the bodies and also to transfer pallets of food and other supplies to the hotel, which arrived just after midnight. All of the trucks, Aiba had learned, were driven by the Self-Defense Force or by contractors who had once worked the Paradise Circus grounds. It was efficient, no surprises. So they didn't turn the lights on in the tunnel during the day because there was no point in wasting the electricity. After this many years, they'd gotten pretty complacent.

This enabled Aiba to inch his way along the walls, out of sight of the cameras. None of the guests knew the tunnel existed, so there was little chance of them wandering down here. The Ground Unit was stationed around the facility or in the command center's upper levels at this time of day. And civilian staff had little reason to be down here, so there was no suspicion. After all, nobody had ever been stupid enough to try what Matsumoto Jun had asked of them.

As his fingers slid along the cold cement blocks, Aiba tried to imagine Shihori's soft, warm skin instead. Because of the VIP guests, they'd slept separately the night before. Everyone on first shift had to be on duty an hour early that day. And because he wasn't with Shihori, he'd been woken sometime after 3:00 AM by Ohno and Matsumoto.

It was suicidal, plain and simple, and Aiba had no idea why he'd even been considered. He could hardly zip a body bag without tearing up, and they expected him to participate in this. He wasn't sure what Shihori would think of all this, either. Of all the people on staff, all the people who could rebel, Aiba Masaki was risking himself, risking his position. Probably risking the safety of his family too.

But he was needed. He would be useful. And most importantly, he would help Jun try to unravel everything that was despicable and wrong about Paradise Circus. The thought of never having to see one of those hotel room doors close again was enough to propel him into action.

He wouldn't be on duty until 4:00 PM, so he had time. And if he was caught, he was still green enough to blame it on getting lost. Or explain that Corporal Matsumoto had ordered it. Jun was outranked by dozens of people at Paradise, but today was a special exception. Today he could go anywhere, demand almost anything with the excuse that it was at the behest of Kitagawa-san or the camera crew following her around. 

The doors at either end of the tunnel were locked when not in use, but Jun had been given a skeleton key for the day. Aiba thought it all would have been more high tech, with swipe cards and retinal scanners and all the stuff in the movies, but that's why they vetted everyone who worked there so closely. From the Ground Unit to the civilian staff, Paradise Circus expected complete loyalty within its walls. That was why there was so much effort to keep people out and so little focused on the people already inside.

Aiba unlocked one of the sets of double doors at the end of the tunnel with Jun's key, imagining that they were propped wide open at night for Murakami's team to wheel the bodies in. The first door to the left, Aiba remembered, entering the hallway. All eyes were probably on the cameras scattered throughout the park, following Jun and Kitagawa Keiko. This floor was always empty this time of day, why even bother watching?

He unlocked the door as Jun had directed, finding empty laundry carts. There were shelves of clean sheets, extras from the hotel. Since the entire Ground Unit had spent the previous night in the command center, they'd had to have plenty of bedding and sheets in the building. With tensions high, they were doing all the extra laundry the following day when things would settle down again. So Aiba unfolded dozens of sheets, dropping them into one of the laundry carts.

He wheeled it out of the room slowly, grateful he'd picked a cart without squeaky wheels. To avoid the cameras in the tunnel he had to move at a crawl, pushing the cart back toward the hotel side. It took nearly an hour (or what easily felt like one) getting the cart all the way to the hotel end. It was kind of a silly plan, but Jun was the man in charge. He wheeled the cart into the hotel, the basement just as empty and quiet as it had been on the other side. 

He parked the cart in one of the storage rooms, locking the door firmly behind him. It was nearly 10:00 AM when he came out of the employee access door on the first floor to find Naka-san on the other side. He nearly fainted then and there, but she smiled at him.

"Oh, Aiba-san! Good morning!"

He was one of them, wasn't he? He was a member of the team. He was above suspicion. "Good morning, Naka-san."

"One of these days you'll have to start calling me Riisa," she said. "Or I'll get mad at you!"

"Wouldn't want that," he replied.

"Is something the matter? You're here early. Is there a problem downstairs? Nobody notified me." She was looking at the door behind him. It led downstairs and only downstairs. There was no reason for him to be down there at this time of day, especially on a day like today.

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and if there was real suspicion on Naka-san's part she was excellent at hiding it. "Kanjiya-san," he lied, "she...she said one of the guests had been looking at this door earlier. I just wanted to make sure it was completely secure."

Naka-san patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you, then, Aiba-san. It's been crazy around here. I'm glad everyone's pitching in to keep their eyes open. And thank Kanjiya-san for me, too!" 

She headed off, leaving Aiba alone. He leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly. He was doing the right thing, he assured himself. He hurried off to the Reading Room, finding Shihori putting books away while a man sat on one of the couches with a stack of manga beside him. She caught sight of him in the doorway, wandering over.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, staring up at him. "You look like you're about to be sick."

"I'm fine," he mumbled. He'd just lied to Naka-san, used Shihori's name to help his lie be even better. It was wrong to use her when this had nothing to do with her. He was stupid, completely stupid because now he'd named her and if he and Jun and Ohno got caught...

Her fingers tangled with his, and she squeezed his hand. "Everyone's on edge today," she said soothingly. "Are you afraid they're going to film you?"

"Yes," he said, adding on another lie.

"Well, you're in luck then," she said, whispering so the reading guest wouldn't overhear. "Keiko-san and the news crew already came through here. She didn't want to read anything. I doubt they'll be back later."

"Good."

"Good?" she replied, smirking at him. "Sakurai Sho talked to me. They filmed me. Me and all the books. People will recognize me now, on the streets, you know. Librarian of death, that's what they'll call me. My life is over."

"Everything's going to be okay," he said, as much for her benefit as his own. 

"After today everything will change," she told him.

"Maybe it will," he assured her. "And maybe that's not such a bad thing."


	6. Chapter 6

The jet coaster at Paradise Circus wasn't the highest or the fastest, but it was still scary. Yasuda-kun sat in the car in front of him and Keiko, filming them without freaking out in the least while they were whipped around corners. Sho had never been a fan of rides or anything with heights, but Keiko had wanted to ride. It was his duty to ride with her.

Corporal Matsumoto was quiet and methodical in the tour he'd given them so far. First they'd been through the gardens, examining the flowers and greenery that had been planted there. To Sho, it seemed the most logical part of the whole facility. There were benches for quiet reflection and a pleasant scent in the air. But few of the "guests" ever bothered to wander around there.

He'd asked Matsumoto why, and he'd only shrugged his shoulders. Soldiers weren't hired for their opinions, Sho realized, especially here. As Matsumoto escorted them toward the hotel with Yasuda filming madly at his heels, Keiko had fallen into step with him.

"There's no need to reflect, not now that we're here. We've been thinking all week," she told him. "About what we're leaving behind. I think Paradise Circus gets that. It wants us to relax and forget. I don't know if it's right or wrong, but it doesn't want us to think. We're already here. There's no point in thinking any more."

For a moment, he regretted not capturing her words with Yasuda's camera, but he'd been having the cameraman film more of the scenery and the employees than Keiko herself as the hours went by. Yasuda had filmed the long hallways of the hotel, the lonely restaurant, the pool, the lobby. Sho wasn't sure what the government's aim had been here, and he remembered his father's words. That Paradise Circus was supposed to be the humane alternative to executing citizens outright.

From the look on some people's faces, sitting alone in the hotel restaurant or glumly holding rings at the ring toss booth, maybe a bullet straight to the head would have been preferable.

When the jet coaster ride ended, a few high school boys stayed strapped into their seats. There wasn't much of a line to speak of, so the staff prepared to get the ride going again. He and Keiko stepped out of the coaster car, and Sho's legs were wobbly as they headed down the exit ramp to find Matsumoto waiting for them. Yasuda turned the camera behind them, filming the coaster taking off from the small station once again.

"Keiko-san, is there anything else you'd care to ride?"

She was tired, and Sho was too. It was nearly 4:00 PM and they'd been up for hours, most of them spent on edge even with the alleged 7:00 PM curfew. "Would it be a bother if I took a nap?" she asked. "I'm sorry if it doesn't make for compelling television."

"I could keep filming the Midway, give the other folks some airtime," Yasuda volunteered. "It's not a problem."

"We're supposed to stay together," Sho noted, catching Matsumoto's watchful eye. "Isn't that right, Corporal?"

Sho hadn't been able to do much investigating of the facilities with the man at his heels all day. He'd been there when they walked, had been there when they ate. He'd only stopped short of following Keiko into the women's restroom.

"If she's in the room with the door locked, it won't be a problem. I can post someone at the door," he said.  
"For her own safety."

He radioed on to someone else on his team, and they made their way back to the hotel. Keiko was assigned to room 1 on the second floor, and Sho saw obvious exertion on Matsumoto's part as he got the door open. It was heavier than a hotel door usually was. Yasuda was allowed to film the bed area and the bathroom. In every respect it looked like a normal business hotel room, but Sho was catching on. 

Everyone was to return to the hotel at 7:00 PM. There was a room for every guest within, and none of the windows could open. Gas, Sho realized. They did it with some sort of gas. He said nothing of the sort to Keiko, looking away as she adjusted the pillows, arranging herself on top of the bedspread.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "Sho-san, I feel as though I've seen all there is to see."

Matsumoto was staring out the window, Yasuda rummaging through some pens and paper on the desk to document everything available. He sat down on the bed, understanding her reluctance to keep wandering around this place. "You'll be safe in here," he said quietly. "I'll come back before 7:00, get some more of your thoughts if that's alright with you."

"That's alright with me," she assured him. "And Sho-san?"

He knew Matsumoto had probably been ordered to listen in, make sure Sho wasn't plotting any sort of heroics. He leaned in until Keiko's lips were right next to his ear.

"Do you think...do you think if people see this it's going to change anyone's mind?" she whispered.

"I don't know."

"But you'll try?"

There was a knock at the door. Matsumoto's colleague had arrived to ensure that nobody got into Keiko's room...and that Keiko herself couldn't leave.

"I'll try," he told her, getting up from the bed and not looking back. He followed Matsumoto from the room, heading for the stairwell.

"You'll be able to stay with her until her dinner tray arrives. Then we'll go to the command center," Matsumoto reminded him. "I'm sorry I can't do any more."

"I want to see it," Sho said calmly.

"You've seen everything," Matsumoto said. They paused in the stairwell, Matsumoto down a few steps and looking up at him and Yasuda with a warning look in his eyes.

"We don't have to film it," he said, feeling anger bubbling up in his gut, thinking of Keiko's exhausted face. It was cruel, forcing people to endure a day like this. Their final day alive, playing through this farce the government had cooked up half a century ago. "We don't need the cameras, but I want to see it. I want to see where the gas comes from. I want to see how we kill them."

Matsumoto visibly tensed at the word "we," but Sho couldn't take much more of this place. The place his father had praised. What about this place, about this treatment made them better than any of the other nations subjugated to China and Russia? Every night he praised the heroes who'd given their lives here, never knowing just what they'd been forced to endure. And for what?

"You know I can't show you that."

"Yasuda, turn your camera on."

"Sho-san," the cameraman muttered.

"Turn it on right now."

He could hear Yasuda fumbling with it behind him, watched Matsumoto's eyes burn a hole through him. He cleared his throat as soon as Yasuda tapped him on the shoulder to let him know they were rolling.

"Matsumoto-san, is it true that the government of Japan uses poison gas to murder one hundred citizens every day and has used poison gas to murder one hundred citizens a day for forty-eight years? That's what, a million people who have wandered these grounds? Nearly two million? This is what freedom costs, Matsumoto-san?"

Matsumoto said nothing. Sho could hear his father's voice in his head, begging him to stop. He was just supposed to document the day, not offer emotional commentary. A hypocrite like him, the man who read the names...what could he possibly have to say about Paradise Circus? Someone who lied every night, reminded everyone how important this place was. Who was he to pass judgment? And yet, he couldn't stop himself.

"And what happens after they're murdered, Matsumoto-san? What do you do with them?"

"Sakurai-san, I'm only asking once. Turn your camera off."

Sho didn't care. They were never going to let him air it anyway, if they didn't have him executed outright. "Yasuda, keep filming. Tell me then, Corporal. Tell me something, would you?" He was being unfair to him. He was being cruel. Matsumoto Jun was just doing his job, and Sho was doing everything but his own. "Hasn't this place had any effect on you? Doesn't it make you angry?"

"Shut up," Matsumoto said, his hand dangerously moving to the gun at his side. "You don't know anything about me."

"Yasuda, keep filming," Sho said again. "So you think what happens here is okay? What would it take to make you change your mind? How many people would have to die? Who would have to die? Your mother? A brother? A lover?"

He felt the wind go out of him as Matsumoto shoved him against the wall, strong hand around his throat.

"How badly would you like to find out?"

\---

If Ninomiya was pissed off that Ohno had been shadowing him all day, he didn't seem to show it. That was the good thing about Paradise Circus, that everyone through the gate each day had no preconceived notions about how things operated. He supposed that the guy would be upset if he knew all the fuss his selection in the lottery had caused, but if this was the only way Paradise was going to change, he was grateful that Nino had been chosen.

Ohno had followed Ninomiya through the Midway, understanding the sadness and disbelief in his eyes as he discovered just what the government had cooked up for his last day alive. Nino had opted against lunch, choosing to spend the rest of his day at the hotel with some games. They were a few systems behind since few guests ever requested to borrow them, but Nino didn't seem to mind.

He probably assumed Ohno was a rule enforcer, a necessary evil, so he hadn't said a thing as Ohno spent the next several hours sitting in room 59 in silence, watching Mario jump and shoot fireballs. He'd never been this close to one of the guests for such a long time before in all his years at Paradise, usually observing goings-on from his lifeguard seat. 

"Ohno-san," Ninomiya said, eyes not leaving the TV screen. "Do you kill me? Are you the one who does it? Is that why you're here with me? Because if so, I'd rather you just do it already."

He checked the clock on the bedside table. 6:23. Just about time to go.

"You aren't going to die."

That was enough to get him to pause the game and turn around, eyeing him cynically. "Is that a joke?"

"No."

Nino got up, turned off the game system and the TV both. "There's vents in this room. I was going through this whole day expecting to be gassed in the end. And now you're telling me I won't die."

There was a knock at the door. Right on schedule. "Hello, it's Aiba. I've brought the sheets you requested," came Aiba's voice from the outside.

Nino just stood there confused as Ohno moved to the door and opened it, allowing Aiba and the laundry cart full of bed sheets inside. "I didn't ask for any sheets," Nino mumbled.

"He doesn't know?" Aiba asked, slightly irritated. "You were supposed to tell him..."

"Tell me what?" Nino demanded. Ohno watched him clutch the Famicom controller in his hands, grip tightening around the cord. He stared Ohno down. This had been a ridiculous plan from the start. "Tell me what?!"

"We know Matsumoto Jun-kun," Ohno explained gently, holding up his hands in hopes that Nino would take the news without running away or freaking out. The last thing they needed to do was subdue the poor guy. "He asked us to help you. To keep you safe."

Nino's face went white as the sheets in the cart Aiba had pushed in. "He what?"

Aiba moved from foot to foot, nervous, and Ohno wondered if this was going to backfire before it even got started. "Everyone's confined to their rooms at 7:00. You're sealed in by 9:00 and the gas comes at midnight," he explained, voice shaking. "Which is why we have to get you out now."

"I don't understand you," Nino mumbled. "Jun's a soldier. He would never, ever break the rules. You don't know him. And you...you work here. Is this a trap? Do you just go after suspicious people? Look, I don't know what kind of fucking game you're playing here, but this place is cruel, you know? I can't take any more misdirection. I can't take the theme park and the smiling faces and the new sheets for the bed. I can't."

He backed away from them until he was against the wall, trembling. 

"I came here ready to die. I can't deal with anything else. I did everything they asked me to do. I wanted to hurt you, all fucking day, I wanted to do something. I wanted to fight it. But I've given up, okay? Just...please kill me if it's your job to kill me. Don't bring Jun into it." Ohno's heart broke when he saw Nino's eyes fill with tears. "Please don't make this about Jun. Please don't tell him I'm here. Please!"

Aiba moved to comfort him, but Ohno stopped him with a hand to his arm. "Aiba-chan..."

"I don't think you know Jun, either," Aiba protested. "He's doing this to help you! He cares enough about you to break the rules! Do you get that? Do you get what it took for him to go this far?"

"Then where is he?" Nino asked angrily, not bothering to wipe his eyes. "Where is he, huh?"

Ohno took a step forward, keeping his hands up. "I told you. He asked us to help you. We work here, me and Aiba. And we can't deal with this place any longer. Paradise needs to stop. If it was up to me, you'd stay in this room, but Jun-kun's the one in charge of all this. We have to get you out of here, but you have to trust us. Please."

"Almost fifty years," Nino said. "People have died here every day for fifty years. Nobody's ever been saved. Nobody."

"There's no guarantee that we'll succeed," Ohno admitted. "But Jun thinks you're worth saving so we're going to try. Would you rather stay in here and wait for the gas to come or take your chances?"

Nino still looked dubious, but his eyes started darting from vent to vent, to the certain death that would disperse in less than six hours. "What do I have to do?"

Aiba started pulling the sheets out of the cart, revealing bottles of water and trays of snack food and granola bars. Probably more than they needed, but who knew what was going to happen that night? "These go under your blanket. This is you," Ohno explained, balling up the sheets. "When they come with the dinner tray and open the door, they'll see that you're under the covers. They don't bother people who are asleep. You come with us."

"You're pushing me out of here in a laundry cart?" Nino asked incredulously. "This isn't a silly movie, this is life and death. Not just mine."

"You can take that up with Jun-kun then," Aiba said, gesturing to the cart. "Come on, hop in."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

Ohno finished shoving the sheets under the blankets. It did mostly look like someone was under there. "Because I've called you Nino this whole day. How else would I know to call you that?"

Nino looked between him and Aiba, still hurting, still terrified, but he reluctantly clambered into the cart, allowing Aiba to throw some of the spare sheets over him. 

"What about everyone else?" Nino asked, voice muffled by the sheets on top of him. "What about Kitagawa Keiko and all the others? I don't suppose you have a cart for everyone."

"We don't," Aiba said. "We just have to hope Jun knows what he's doing."

The sheets shuffled around a bit. "And what exactly is he doing?"

\---

He hadn't expected Sakurai Sho to arrive at Paradise Circus with any agenda other than propaganda. Surely his presence here had been approved to keep Paradise going. And yet the man's calm, his pleasant TV persona had been worn down over the course of the day. 

Even now as they sat with Kitagawa Keiko in the final minutes before 1900 hours, Jun could see that he'd underestimated him. He'd been so close to taking the camera out of Yasuda's hands, throwing it on the ground and seeing it smashed to pieces. Sakurai had provoked him, tried to get a rise out of him. It had worked, and it had amazingly gone in Jun's favor.

"I'm supposed to sell the Japanese people on this place," Sho had told him in the stairwell, bitterness in his voice. "That's impossible. Literally impossible."

He'd expected Sakurai Sho to be another puppet, another mouthpiece. Where he thought he would have had to coerce the man and Yasuda at gunpoint, Sakurai had seemed amenable, almost enthusiastic about Jun's half-assed plan. 

"We could all die," he'd told Sakurai. "There's a high probability it won't work out."

"I leave this place after midnight with the footage on that camera and I'm a dead man anyway."

Jun had given Yasuda the chance to walk away, but he'd refused. "I can't," the cameraman had said. "Not after the things I've seen."

So here they were, recording Kitagawa Keiko's "final" message. Jun stayed out of sight of the camera, watching Sakurai try and keep it together. He'd told the man about Nino, too. Best he knew exactly why Jun had turned traitor. He knew that Sakurai wanted to bring Keiko along too, wanted to keep her with them. But there were already too many variables. They couldn't risk it, and Sakurai was already the best bargaining chip they had.

Yasuda finally turned the camera off. It was time. Jun knew that Aiba and Ohno were already on their way, or should have been by now. "Let's go," Jun said. "I have to bring you both to the command center."

Sakurai met his eyes. "We should keep the camera in here. Keep it safe."

Keiko was confused. "Sho-san, what do you mean?"

The room would be sealed at 2100 hours. If they failed and the camera was here, it would be tossed in the trash and burned. If they failed and the camera was with them, it would be burned too. It didn't really matter where they left it. But if it made Sakurai feel better, made him more agreeable, then Jun would do anything at this point.

"If there's anything you don't feel comfortable saying with us around," Sho lied to her. "Then use this time to record it."

They left Kitagawa Keiko behind with the camera in her hand just as the staff arrived with a dinner tray for her. As they left the hotel, they moved through the halls and the lobby as conspicuously as they could. The more people that saw them heading for the command center as expected, the more time they'd have before someone got curious. Jun even radioed ahead to Lieutenant Katori, saying he was en route with Sakurai and Yasuda in tow. That Kitagawa Keiko was safely in her room for good. It felt strange lying to his superior, something that would have been unthinkable even two days earlier.

As they headed down the hill, Sakurai stayed close at his back. Even then they could hear the screams, the protests as members of the Ground Unit and the civilian staff chased them down, forced them to the hotel.

"My father said people brought here were treated with respect and dignity," Sakurai murmured. "I suppose he never got a high enough security clearance to learn what happens when it's time for the carnival to close."

He wanted to tell Sakurai to shut up, to just stay quiet, but what did it matter? Everything the man found abhorrent about this place Jun found abhorrent too - he'd just never had the courage to do anything about it. He'd never been convinced that the system could change. Sakurai seemed to want to believe they had a fighting chance. Yasuda seemed nervous without the camera in hand, without a way to channel his energy. He jangled the change around in the pockets of his pants, humming quietly to himself as they approached the command center. 

Jun nodded to the person manning the door. They were on camera entering just after 1900 hours. There was a room in the second sub-basement where Jun was supposed to bring them, where they were expected to wait out the next five hours. There was even a television hooked up to Channel One in there if Sakurai was vain enough to want to watch his own program. 

They took the elevator down as expected. Jun whispered for them to walk normally as they exited the elevator, bypassing the necessary door. They weren't waiting it out in there. He knew exactly where other members of the unit were stationed on the floor. Nakamaru was on guard in the north corridor, just in front of the armory door, and Tanaka was always trying to flirt with Corporal Ishihara outside of the control room. Even a day like today wouldn't stop him.

Jun was right, marching right to the south end of the floor, pulling out the key they'd found him trustworthy enough to keep. He felt the slightest regret as he slipped it into the lock for the stairwell door. Ten years in the life, the only work life he'd known, and he was throwing it all away. Eighteen year old Matsumoto Jun, wanting so badly to fit in, to be a part of something, to protect his country and his family - he would despise Jun now. But eighteen year old Matsumoto Jun hadn't met Ninomiya Kazunari. He couldn't understand.

He waited until Sakurai and Yasuda were on the landing with him, and he closed the stairwell door firmly, relocking it. If they'd seen the three of them go this way on the cameras, he had about 30 seconds before the alarms would blare and other members of the unit would come running.

He watched the seconds tick by on his watch, letting them count down as the three of them stood there in the stairwell, the orange emergency lights casting an eerie glow all around. If they got past this, they'd be in the clear for a few hours. Corporal Matsumoto Jun was trustworthy - nobody would need to check on them. There was no logical reason why they'd be anywhere else than where they'd been assigned. If anyone bothered to check it would be Lieutenant Katori, but surely he had his hands full now, ensuring that one hundred guests were fully accounted for.

They headed down the stairs. The gas control room was the furthest underground along with the burn room. So few people within Paradise Circus even knew what places lurked under their feet. Everyone knew the gas was released, but nobody had ever stopped and wondered where. A preliminary check was done at 2130 hours. That was when they'd go.

The cameras didn't reach their waiting place at the end of the lowest level of the facility. There would be no avoiding the cameras when the time came, but they would be fine for now. They stopped outside of the storage room, and he could hear the two men breathing behind him. If things had gone as planned, Nino was on the other side of the door. If things hadn't, Aiba and Ohno would already be in custody. Nino would be in his room at the hotel.

Jun knocked lightly, three times as they'd agreed, before pulling the door open.

\---

When the door opened, Nino had to squint for a moment. To play it safe, they'd been relying on flashlights since they'd come through the tunnel under the facility and he emerged from the stupid pile of sheets to find himself in this storage room. He saw three people in the doorway, and he'd know the person in front anywhere.

He'd been sitting on the floor, waiting as patiently as he could, but once the door was closed he found himself getting to his feet. He shocked them all, Sakurai Sho from the news too, as he launched himself at Jun, landing a punch right on his face.

"Fuck you!" he seethed as Aiba and Ohno hurried to pull him back, grabbing hold of his arms. "Fuck you, Jun!"

The punch had barely staggered him and left Nino's hand throbbing. Jun took it in stride, even though Nino had never ever hit him before. "You made it," he said with the same finality he did on that last voicemail. The voicemail that had replayed in his head all day, the voicemail Nino thought would be the last thought in his head when Paradise Circus killed him.

"I want to talk to you," he hissed at Jun. "Alone. We have some things to say to each other, I think."

Jun wiped some blood from his nose. What had he expected? Had he expected Nino to be grateful, potentially throwing his own life away in some bullheaded act of treason? Wasn't this the way it was going to go? Jun giving himself up so Nino could live long enough to get away? Jun handed Ohno a key, told them to wait in the storage room across the hall.

The four men departed, Ohno and Aiba leading the way for TV's golden boy and his cameraman, who was oddly camera-free at present. That left him and Jun alone as the door closed, and Nino kept his distance. He'd already punched him - he couldn't do much more. Jun angled one of the flashlights Ohno had set up so that it lit the room better, let them see one another.

"Do we start with you?" Jun asked him, his voice burning with emotion Nino rarely heard from him. "Do we start with you getting a god damned lottery letter and not telling me immediately?"

He crossed his arms. "There's still time to put me back where I belong. You can still walk away from this, keep your job. Be alive when the sun rises tomorrow. I took care of everything. I can go."

"You don't belong in that room," Jun said. "You belong with me."

"That's kind of selfish, don't you think? And a little too dramatic. Don't be stupid, Jun, for god's sake. I'm not worth your life, not worth Ohno and Aiba's either. Terrific guys by the way, are you paying them to be your cannon fodder or are they as stupid as you are?"

Jun took a step forward, menace in his eyes. "You don't get to do this. I need you."

"You don't need me, Jun-kun. The government of Japan sent me a piece of paper telling me how expendable I am, how necessary it is that I no longer exist."

He rubbed his eyes, feeling them itch and burn. Jun was doing all of this for him. Jun, the perfect soldier, was willing to risk absolutely everything for the person he thought Ninomiya Kazunari was.

"I'm a liar," Nino admitted. "I've lied to you from the start. I work at The Vista, but that's not all I am. Don't throw your life away for someone like me."

"Tell me," Jun said, eyes so desperately honest. The eyes he saved for Nino alone. The trust, the honesty in them made Nino almost sick. "Tell me now then. I'm not going to change my mind. If you were cheating, if you're stealing money from me. Hell, if you're a serial killer I'm not going to let you die tonight."

He shut his eyes, unable to keep looking at Jun. "You are a member of the Japanese Ground Self-Defense Force. You're loyal and brave and you do a job that nobody else really wants. I, on the other hand, I am a coward. And a traitor. I am a card-carrying member of the Japan Will Rise Again movement. Although, fine, they don't actually issue cards. I'm a rebel, I'm supposed to be here rebelling. I'm supposed to try to upend the system you fight tirelessly to keep up. I'm supposed to be killing people like you and saving myself."

"That doesn't matter," Jun tried to say, but Nino held up a hand to silence him.

"For months they wanted me to get information out of you. They wanted me to use you. I almost did. I wanted to do it, but I couldn't. I'm not the person you think I am. You deserve better, really. If you stick your neck out for someone, stick it out for Ohno-san. He watched me play Mario for about six hours and didn't say a fucking word. That's someone Japan can't lose. Or that Aiba. He was telling me he just got a girlfriend, how worried he was if your stupid plan didn't work out and they tried to go after her for knowing him. In the grand scheme of things, I'm just the guy you live with. You can find someone new, alright? Be smart. You're the smartest person I know, so don't do this."

Jun closed the distance between them, trapping Nino against one of the storage room shelves, a metal bar jabbing him right in the back.

"If you're dead," Jun murmured, brushing his fingers through Nino's hair. "Then I can't be mad at you for everything you just said to me. I want to go home with you and yell at you for lying to me. I want to go home and force you to eat something with a vegetable in it. I want to fight with you, I want to wake up with you, I want to be with you. And if Paradise Circus says you should die then Paradise Circus is wrong."

"Why?" Nino whispered incredulously before Jun's hands were on his face, pulling him close. "Just tell me why."

"Do I really need to say it?"

Nino supposed he didn't, kissing Jun with everything he had, open and honest with him for what might have been the very first time. He'd been selected in the lottery, and even still he felt like the luckiest man alive. He breathed in the scent of Jun all around him, tasting the dry sweetness of his mouth. If he didn't have Jun, if they'd never met, he'd be locked in that hotel room, waiting for death. Perhaps death still had his number, but he'd have Jun at his side this time.

He finally turned away, embarrassed. They didn't need to keep their partners in crime waiting. "Okay," he said, letting out a deep breath. "Okay. Now what do we do?"

Jun refused to let him go, brushing his lips against Nino's forehead, almost as if Nino would disappear somehow and everything he'd risked would be meaningless. "We wait. Just a little while longer."

\---

Aiba munched nervously on the granola bars he'd stolen from the hotel restaurant. There were only minutes left, Jun explained. They'd heard the siren even this far underground. All guests were in their rooms and accounted for. Once the dinner trays were fully delivered, the Ground Unit was off-duty until midnight; they'd all be returning to the command center. Jun's superior was probably going to check in on him, only to discover that Jun was not where he'd said he was. Maybe there'd be a new alarm, Aiba thought, a new alarm just for things that never ever happened around here.

It was odd, the men who were gathered now in the storage room. Of all the places to wait and start a revolution, Aiba hadn't thought it would be a place like this. Or that he'd be one of the people involved. They all sat on the floor in the dim light. Ohno was at his side, checking and rechecking the bag they were bringing in. He was in charge of carrying it in - hauling in bottled water and the rest of the granola and energy bars.

Yasuda the cameraman stared into space. Aiba felt badly for him. It was supposed to have been his big break, accompanying Sakurai-san here and filming. He was a small man, quiet but with a restless energy. Even now his fingers were tapping against the fabric of his jeans, as though he was replaying every song he'd ever liked in his head in case things went wrong. Jun had given him the chance to remain innocent, to leave, but he hadn't gone. Yasuda was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he hadn't run away.

Sakurai was beside him, eyes closed and silent. He was the one they couldn't lose. He'd told them all about his family, how high up his father was in the government. Aiba had to admit that he was not the person he was on TV, the man his mother pitied for being unlucky in his job despite the fame that came with it. Sakurai Sho wasn't a robot after all. He wanted to make things right.

Ninomiya was on Sakurai's other side, the cause of it all. He wondered if one day he'd ever feel enough for another person as Ninomiya and Matsumoto seemed to feel for one another. But he understood it, a little. Jun was able to come to work every day, to be in a place like this because he had Nino. Aiba had found friendship with Ohno here, something more with Shihori here. In a place like Paradise Circus, you couldn't survive on your own. 

Jun kept checking his watch. Aiba thought maybe it was the hardest on him. He didn't know Jun that well, or at least he hadn't until today. Today he'd met the real Matsumoto Jun, the person who'd seemed to Aiba before to be so driven, so focused on his job that nothing could change that. But he'd also met Nino today. Maybe he didn't know them, but he wanted to. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with people like them, people who cared, even if they didn't always show it.

He looked at each of the men again in turn, wondering just where he fit. Wondering what part he'd have to play. He said a silent prayer for his mother, his father, his brother, his brother's wife. He said a prayer for Shihori, who had no idea what he was doing tonight. Keep them safe, keep them safe, keep them safe. No matter how stupid I am, keep them safe, he prayed. He said a prayer for the others in the room with him. Don't let me be a burden. Let me be of use.

Jun got to his feet, face as serious as the day Aiba had met him here, thinking he was just another heartless soldier.

"We should go. It's time."

\---

It was easier to be on television with millions of potential viewers, Sho thought. Far easier. Matsumoto opened the door. Just around the corner was the room with the switches. Three switches, Matsumoto had explained. The first time set off sleeping gas, the second time poison. Three men in the room to throw the switches, and it was at this time of night that they came down to perform their final check. It was a computerized process, getting the gas ready to pipe through the ducts. But it still required a human to set it in motion. It wouldn't go unless the button was pushed. Humans still had to take responsibility, Sho thought, and he was reminded painfully of his father. 

For thirty years he'd worked so hard to grow up to be a man worthy of the faith his father had placed in him. He'd wanted so much to be a dutiful son, to serve the country his father loved. For so long he'd wanted to conform to that ideal, but it wasn't the part he was meant to play in the end. He couldn't be a dutiful son now that he'd seen Paradise Circus with his own eyes.

He took a deep breath. He was to stay back with Ohno and Ninomiya. "We'll be like the back row," Ninomiya said. "That's where you put the healers, the people with less HP. You keep them safe."

"I'm not sure I get your analogy," Sho said.

Ninomiya nodded his head at Matsumoto as he pulled his sidearm from his holster, handing it to Aiba. Yasuda looked petrified to be holding a handgun himself, one of two that Matsumoto had taken from the armory late the night before when he'd started putting his plan into motion. Jun waved them along into the hallway.

"The fighters are in the front row," Ninomiya said quietly. "They're the ones who attack."

Matsumoto took the lead into the corridor, Yasuda and Aiba at his heels. The three Self-Defense Force members who came down to the gas control room would be outfitted the same as Matsumoto with their guns in a side holster. They were well trained, as professional and seasoned as Jun himself - maybe more. But this was the last place they'd expect to be surprised.

The guns were loaded with rubber bullets and from a distance they wouldn't cause any permanent harm. "Aim at the legs," Matsumoto had instructed. "We don't need to hurt them."

Sho held his breath as he watched Jun peer around the corner. He heard the elevator ding, heard boots on the tile. They were coming. Ohno, burden on his back, stood in front of Sho and Ninomiya as Jun made the signal. He, Yasuda, and Aiba whipped around the corner and out of sight.

"Matsumoto...hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

One gun went off. Two shots fired. Three. Four.

"Don't touch it. Don't even think about pulling your sidearm," came Jun's voice then. "Aiba..."

"Matsumoto, are you insane?"

"Yasuda, the door..."

"You son of a bitch! God damned traitor!"

Sho wanted to move, wanted to help, but it wasn't his place to do so. Ohno wouldn't budge anyhow. He listened to the complaints, the groans of pain (he hoped not too horrible) as Yasuda unlocked the door across from the gas control room. The three men were going to be cuffed and locked inside. When Sho heard the door lock again, Jun came back around.

"We're secure. Come on."

\---

He'd been working at Paradise Circus for ten years, and he felt a shiver go down his spine as he stepped into the stark white room. It looked like just another storage room, save for just opposite the door where three switches were built into the wall. They were small, almost like light switches, but they had the power to kill. Or at least one of them did. 

The three men from the Ground Unit had been subdued and locked away. Ohno could hear their cries until all six of them were inside the gas control room, and Jun closed and locked the door. "They do a standard check," Jun said, examining the small metal panels next to each switch. "If the little light is green, it means the system is running, and a flip of the switch will activate the sleeping gas. Then the system reformats so it can change to the other gas."

Ohno could see that all three green lights were on. All the lives of the people in the hotel, locked away in those rooms...all it took was a flip of a switch and they'd die.

Yasuda held out the gun in his hand. "Please take it," he told Jun. "Please?"

Jun took it. Ohno set down their food and water in the corner. Sitting again. Waiting again. But this time it wouldn't be for as long a time. The control room here was checked once before the men returned at 11:30 PM. So they were expected back upstairs in minutes. More men would come down, and Jun's superiors would definitely get the picture. 

None of them ventured within five feet of the switches. Instead they stood around in the center of the room, waiting for the inevitable. Aiba was already apologizing to Yasuda, but the cameraman waved him off. "All part of the show," he said nervously.

The minutes passed, and Ohno found himself thinking about his parents. If this went wrong, if soldiers burst through the doors and riddled them with real bullets, they'd know that Ohno was part of this conspiracy. Would they hurt his mom and dad? And what would they think of him? Would they even believe him capable of something like this? Maybe when he was 20 and arrogant and uncooperative, but not now. Not after ten years watching people die and becoming the Satoshi he was now.

"I just want to say," Jun broke the silence a few moments later. "I want to say thank you. It's been an honor."

There was a knock at the door, and they all froze. They'd definitely opened the storage room, found out what had happened to the other three members of the Ground Unit.

"Corporal Matsumoto!" Ohno recognized that voice. It was the man with the big smile who welcomed guests every morning. He didn't sound like he was smiling. "Corporal, explain yourself."

"They'll break down the door," Nino said quietly.

"Back up," Jun ordered, and the six of them moved until Ohno was a few feet away from one of the switches. Nino was at his side, and he had a smirk on his face. "Aiba-san..."

"Corporal, open this door!"

"I'm very sorry," Aiba mumbled before pointing the gun in his hand at the back of Yasuda's head.

"Just...just don't fire, okay?" the cameraman whispered.

"Matsumoto, I'm giving you to the count of 10..." came the man's voice. "One!"

Jun got behind Sakurai, arm around him and gun to the reporter's temple. He didn't bother to apologize, but Sakurai seemed to take it in stride.

"Two!"

Ohno found himself moving, standing in front of Nino.

"Three!"

He heard the sounds of boots in the hallway.

"Four!"

One, two, three switches behind them. One of them would start the chain.

"Five!"

Aiba wrapped an arm around Yasuda, trying to mimic Jun's stance.

"Six!"

His parents were probably watching television, maybe a baseball game.

"Seven!"

They'd gotten this far, Ohno thought, as he felt Nino's fingers grasp the back of his t-shirt, just to hold on to something.

"Eight!"

Jun took a step forward, giving Sakurai a nudge.

"Nine!"

Ohno took a deep breath.

"Ten!"


	7. Chapter 7

There was little grace or precision to the way Lieutenant Katori's men kicked the door open. It took them three tries, given the nature of what was inside the room. A thicker door, stronger construction had probably seemed logical when they built it.

That they didn't open fire right off the bat gave Jun some hope, or maybe it was because Katori wasn't a fool and the six of them stood between Katori and the most important set of switches in Japan. To think of the power that lay just a few paces behind him. The power of life and death for one hundred innocent civilians. Well, Jun thought, ninety-nine civilians and one clever lump of bed sheets.

Jun could feel Sakurai tense up in front of him as at least ten Ground Unit men hurried into the room with rifles, lining up and pointing at all of them. No rubber bullets this time - he wondered if they'd already thrown Nakamaru, Tanaka, and Ishihara in the brig for being Jun's conspirators - or for simply not taking a second to investigate what was happening right under their noses. He'd feel bad for them later, if he got to experience a "later."

Katori kept his distance, walking into the room unarmed and standing in front of his men. "I think the Paradise Duty vetting procedure could use some revision," he said. "Or maybe you were just the best liar the psych eval team's failed to notice."

"People change," Jun said, tightening his grip around Sakurai. "This place can drive you mad."

Katori nodded. "What's your plan here then? You think these men aren't crack shots at close quarters, Matsumoto? You trained with them, what do you think? I can have them put a bullet between your eyes before I finish giving the order. I mean, you'd be dead before you even made it to a court martial, so me killing you now or the government killing you later doesn't leave you with too many options."

"What time is it, Lieutenant?" Jun asked, taking a page from Nino's book. Nino watched lots of movies - he liked to talk like movie characters, all bravado and sarcasm. Jun wasn't like that, never had been, but he had to be now. "I'd check my watch, but I'd have to let go of my hostage."

"Your hostage?" Katori replied, and Jun didn't dare look aside, didn't dare check to see if Aiba was focused, if Ohno had Nino under control. "No offense to you, Sakurai-san, but I could have my men put a bullet between your eyes too. Collateral damage. Caught in the crossfire. However your friends at Channel One would like to spin it."

"You've seen my file," Sakurai said. Good, he was using his big boy news voice. Even as Jun could feel him trembling, his voice gave no sign of fear. "You know where my father works."

"I do."

Jun dragged the gun barrel up and down the side of the newscaster's face. "Lieutenant, if you kill him, it's collateral damage. If I kill him, it's a soldier gone crazy. But either way, if Sakurai Sho is dead, you still lose. You see, our reputations were on the line today with him being here. The government is watching. If we fuck up, if Sakurai dies, that says something about this facility, doesn't it? That we'd let someone like him die?"

Katori's eyes darkened. "Matsumoto..."

"So Sakurai dies, bang!" Jun shouted then, tapping the gun barrel against Sakurai's temple. He could hear Sakurai's sharp intake of breath, felt guilty for a split second. "How did it happen? How could that possibly happen? After all, this is Paradise Circus. This _cannot_ happen. Forty-eight years, and it all falls apart. They'd arrest you all. That's days of interrogation ahead of you, only to result in the condemnation of the entire Paradise Unit. For negligence. For failing the nation."

He watched Katori's face. He was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. He was full on panicking now.

"So go ahead," Jun told him. "Kill me. I'll shoot him before you can give the order. Doesn't matter that it's rubber. At this distance, he'll die. Or kill Sakurai Sho yourself, Lieutenant, and see what excuse you can make that won't result in your own execution."

"We trusted you," Katori said, trying to soften his voice. He even held up his hands. "This isn't like you. Jun-kun..."

"I swear," he said, raising his voice. "I will kill him right now unless you get those people out of this room."

"Please," Sakurai murmured, and Jun almost believed he was sincere. The magic of television.

Katori waved his hand, and the soldiers left. They stayed in the hallway, looking in through the busted doorframe. "What do you want? You know how this has to go. You know why we do this every day. This country has over 125 million people in it. Does that number mean anything to you?"

"It does," he said.

"You asked what time it was. It's about 2150 hours. In less than two hours, you know that switch has to be pressed. And at midnight, it has to be pressed again. It's what has to happen."

"Does it?" Jun asked. "If we let it go for one day, one day after all these years, you think it'll matter?"

"I don't want to find out," Katori said. "Nobody does. That's why we have Paradise Circus. That's why all these people work here. That's why all these people have sacrificed themselves. Why they've come willingly for forty-eight years. And I can't let you..." He tried taking a step forward, and Jun only took a step back, not letting Sakurai go. "...Matsumoto, I can't let you take that chance."

"Leave," Jun said. "If they wanted the system to work perfectly, they wouldn't have done it this way. All the subterfuge, the propaganda, and it all comes down to three men flipping a switch at midnight? This program was set up to fail, and we were too cowardly to do anything about it. We can't get those people back, forty-eight years of them, but maybe we can save the next forty-eight years' worth. We can stop this."

"We'll see what your father has to say then," Katori said, looking at Sakurai. "We'll see what the government has to say about all of this."

"They'll string you up," Jun said. "If either of us touches a hair on his head."

Katori shrugged. "I understand what it means to serve this country, Matsumoto. I think Sakurai's father does too." He turned, signaling to the men in the hall. "Let's move. They're not going anywhere."

And with that Lieutenant Katori ended his negotiation, taking the soldiers and leaving the six of them alone.

Jun waited until he heard the elevator doors close before he let Sakurai go and fell to his knees.

\---

He was shaking. Jun was the strong one, and he wouldn't stop shaking. "Look at you," Nino said, trying to comfort him as Jun sat on the floor of the control room, still in shock. "Like a movie star."

They were alone again, the six of them - and Nino had a suspicion they'd won this round. Yasuda and Sakurai were sitting together alone, putting as much distance between themselves and the rest of them as they could. Even if it was fake, even if it was a complete bluff, Nino knew it couldn't have been easy to be Sakurai and Yasuda, standing there with guns to their heads. Even Nino had thought for a moment that the soldier Jun had spoken with would just riddle all six of them with bullets and make up a crazy story.

Ohno brought over a bottle of water from the pack, kneeling down and urging Jun to drink it. Who knew when the brass would come back to negotiate again. Maybe next time they'd just bring in tear gas, knock all of them out and make sure those switches got pressed.

"I didn't know you had it in you," he said, punching Jun's arm playfully. "You missed your calling in the entertainment world."

"What if it doesn't work?" Jun grumbled, staring at Sakurai. "You think they're really going to talk with your father?"

"I would," Sakurai admitted. "If I were them. Though I think they'll call the Cabinet, emergency meeting. Pros and cons of killing all of us to keep Paradise going."

"Would your dad intervene?" Aiba asked nervously. "Could he?"

Nino watched Sakurai's face pale. "I...I don't know if it would matter. I'm just one man, you know...compared to what they think will keep Japan safe."

"He's your father," Yasuda said encouragingly. "He'll tell them to do whatever it takes to spare you."

"And at what cost?" Sakurai asked, looking at each of them. "If they come in here, kill all of you and pull me out it doesn't change a damn thing."

They all grew quiet again. Ohno pulled out granola bars for each of them, walking person to person and forcing them to open the wrappers and eat them. To save their strength. Everyone at Paradise Circus was supposed to die at midnight, Nino had learned. But if the government was convening to talk about it, to determine how to salvage what had been messed up by the six of them, maybe it would take longer. So long as the people at Paradise were killed, did it matter what time it happened? Who knew how long they'd be stuck in this room?

They'd been left alone - there was little point in stationing men down here. He was pretty damn sure every camera in the command center was pointed at the doorway they'd busted through. Nino got to his feet, walking to the wall and examining each switch. Three men had stood here and seen to it that his father was killed. His mother, his sister. He hated the sight of these switches, hated how the men who flicked them could walk away mostly guilt-free, convinced it was probably one of the other two who'd killed the Paradise "guests."

"There's ninety-nine people in those rooms," Nino said. "I could be one of them. I should be. We're standing up for them. That we've come this far, it means something. I've wanted to destroy this place for years, and did I ever try? I didn't. So they come in here and kill us. But we tried. We stood here, and Jun said no. In fifty years, nobody has ever told them no. No matter what happens, we've changed everything. For better or for worse, we did something. So stop whining. Stop worrying. They'll find out that if this can happen right under their noses, it means it could happen again at any time. Now they'll know the Japanese people, their own people, aren't just animals to slaughter. That means something."

Jun took a sip from his water bottle, looking completely beaten down. "I'm sorry. If I wasn't persuasive enough and this ends up hurting the people you love..."

"Jun, shut up," Nino told him with a laugh. He held out his hand, looking at each of them. "I hate being sentimental, but having the expectation of dying, spending a whole week questioning your life and how you spent it kind of makes you that way. I just want to say, as someone who isn't a soldier or a famous person or someone who lives and works in this hell all day, I want to say thank you. And that no matter what happens, I think I'd rather die here with all of you than wait in a creepy hotel room for some gas to snuff me out."

Aiba walked over, looking tearful. He put his hand down on top of Nino's. "I'm glad we met."

Yasuda got to his feet, smiling at each of them as he set his hand down. "I'm glad we met."

Ohno joined them next. "I'm glad we met."

Nino cleared his throat, wagging his free hand at Sakurai. "Come on, celebrities are welcome, too."

Sakurai looked rather embarrassed as he walked over. "My palms are sweaty..."

"I nearly wet my pants when they came in here with the guns," Nino said. "No judgment here."

Sakurai's hand settled down on top of Ohno's, and finally they looked to Jun.

Nino could see his face turn red at all the eyes on him. If Nino hated being sentimental, at least in front of other people, then Jun absolutely loathed it. It was the soldier in him. Even if he'd turned against everything, there were some things that wouldn't change. He finally, reluctantly, got up, setting down the water bottle, looking anywhere but at the others.

"I'm glad we met," he mumbled, setting his hand down on top of Sakurai's.

They broke apart, and Nino felt lighter. Whatever happened, he'd spent these last few hours with people he wished he'd known forever. Odd people, stubborn people, but people who cared. Nino thought he'd cared. Thought that as a Riser he cared more than anyone. He'd been wrong.

The hours passed, the tension in the room growing as 11:00 PM came and went, and so did 11:30. The switches remained as they were. No sleeping gas went to the rooms of the Paradise Hotel. Nino found himself pacing the room as midnight arrived, nobody in the room saying a word as a new day arrived. Jun said that a siren of some sort went off when everyone had been killed - they'd heard nothing. There was no alternate to the room they were in now, unless the Paradise soldiers had gone door to door of the hotel and slaughtered everyone.

1:00 AM came and still there'd been no word, no interference. What was happening in the command center? What about in the rest of the facility? What about the staff, the other guests? What the hell was going on? Nino was convinced they were all going to break from not knowing. Most of them were going on nearly a full day without sleep, without a single second to relax. 

He could see it in the slump of Aiba's shoulders as he sat next to Ohno, who was going in and out of consciousness, the closest any of them had come to sleeping. Jun was like a live wire, darting in and out of the room, peering down the hallway, checking the cameras. Yasuda had peeled the labels off of all the water bottles, had shredded them into thousands of pieces at his feet. Sakurai looked like he would be violently ill at any moment. For his part, Nino had to pee - Jun ended up relenting, letting him go into one of the storage rooms to piss in an empty water bottle.

It was 4:36 in the morning when it happened. 

Despite their fatigue, everyone got to their feet when they heard the ding of the elevator down the hall. Nino slunk to the back, staying at Ohno's side rather than behind him. Aiba scrambled to pick up the gun he'd been using, shakily grabbing hold of Yasuda again. Jun wearily got to his feet, pulling Sakurai to his and repeating their previous stance - Sakurai, the one nobody would dare kill.

It wasn't just the sound of boots. There were shoes, regular shoes. Dress shoes if Nino had to guess, the kind that made noise when you walked. He held his breath.

The man from before, Lieutenant Katori was back - he and several soldiers ringed a delegation of exhausted looking men in business suits. Sakurai couldn't help speaking. "Your Excellency?!"

Your Excellency? Nino nearly fainted. It was the Prime Minister of Japan. Had the man himself come to throw the switch? Had he come to negotiate with Jun himself? Why was he here, several stories underground, when he had a country to run?

"Your Excellency," Sho repeated again. "What's going on?"

It was then that Nino saw that the faces of the men who'd arrived weren't grim, weren't furious. They looked almost...happy?

For being the leader of the government, he sure looked excited to meet with them. "Matsumoto Jun-san?" he asked, looking Jun in the eye. "You can put down your weapons. Both of you, please put down your weapons and let these men go."

"I can't," Jun said. "If you've spoken to Lieutenant Katori or anyone else, you know I can't do that, sir."

The Prime Minister held up his hands in a gesture of peace. None of the men surrounding him had rifles or any sort of weapons. Were they stupid?

"Matsumoto-san, I have news for you. For all of you gentlemen, in fact." He met each of their eyes, and Nino felt himself straighten even as the man who represented everything he hated looked right at him. "The Chinese government has fallen. The people of China have risen up and overthrown them. We've only just received word from our contacts there and in Moscow."

"Sir?" Jun asked, easing his hold on Sakurai just the slightest.

"Gentlemen, the war is over. We've reached peace with China and Russia. There is no longer a need for Paradise Circus."

\---

When Aiba was outside again, breathing in the fresh morning air, he thought it was too good to be true. Maybe they'd all died in there, been gunned down, and he was somewhere between the earth and heaven. How else could he have possibly survived a night like he'd just experienced?

Even now as he and the others emerged from the command center, shell-shocked, he could see Ground Unit members hugging, celebrating. There were civilian staff wandering the grounds, screaming and cheering. The jet coaster was running, he could hear it whipping around as the Midway music played. He looked up the hill, saw the Paradise Hotel. All the lights were on. 

The gates in the parking lot were open, the Prime Minister himself had told them before shaking all of their hands, calling them the bravest men he'd ever met. Aiba's hands were still shaking. Only seconds before the handshake he'd been holding a gun to another man's head. Of course, the six of them weren't really heroes, Aiba thought. What had happened in China had happened a day earlier and the government hadn't been able to move on the information until they were absolutely certain.

It was only a stroke of sheer luck that Ninomiya Kazunari had arrived at Paradise the day before, prompting Jun to action. If not, the war would have still been over and 100 civilians would have died for absolutely nothing. Even now as Aiba trudged through the grass on the way to the Paradise Village, he couldn't believe it.

Sakurai and Yasuda took off running for the hotel despite their exhaustion. "Keiko-san!" each of them took turns screaming in joy. "Keiko-san!"

He watched Jun and Nino walk toward the parking lot. They'd probably walk through the open gates and never look back. The minister had said they were all free to go, would not be prosecuted. It was a new Japan, reborn for only a few hours, and the weight that had been on Aiba's heart since the day he'd arrived at Paradise Circus seemed to lift.

In the madness taking place on the Paradise grounds, he lost track of Ohno. But he supposed that was okay. He was probably going to leave, to go wherever he wanted to go. Paradise Circus would be closed, the minister had promised. There was nothing here for any of them now. As the sunshine poured down on him and the promise of a Japan that was truly free started to sink in, Aiba's legs moved faster.

By the time he reached House 7 he was running so fast he nearly collided with the door. "Shihori!" he cried. "Shihori!" He took the stairs two, three at a time. Her door was closed and he knocked frantically. "Shihori, open up! It's me! I'm here, it's me!"

Stupid, he told himself, laughing. Why would she be here? When she could be out there celebrating? When she could leave the grounds completely, go home to her family? He just kept laughing, going from house to house in search. 

"Kanjiya-san?" Naka-san asked when Aiba got to the front desk of the hotel. She was still at her post, seemingly in shock. "I haven't seen her."

He finally found her on the Midway, one of the staff pointing her out on the merry-go-round. He watched from the white picket fence around the ride as her bright silver horse bobbed up and down while the carousel turned. Her face was the picture of bliss, and she wasn't holding on to the pole in the center. He smiled as she kept her arms straight out away from her body, the morning breeze making her dark brown hair fly.

He watched the carousel turn for a good ten minutes, frozen in place, watching her come around again and again as the music played on a seemingly infinite loop. Eventually she came around the bend, laughing at something a woman on another horse said, and she looked out. She caught his eye just before her horse disappeared around the turn. He knew then that he wasn't in between earth and heaven, that he wasn't dead. He was absolutely certain.

The next time the silver horse came around there was no rider, and he saw her come running. He found himself moving too, along the fence, looking for a way to get through. He ended up clambering over it, nearly getting a sharp poke in his most precious of places in his desperation. The jet coaster went clicking up the hill, the music played on, and he saw her smile as they finally found one another.

"You jumped off the merry-go-round!" he chastised her as they met. "You can't do that, it sets a bad example!"

She was absolutely glowing. "Oh, be quiet!" she said, throwing her arms around him. "Just be quiet."

He bent down to kiss her then, knowing for a fact it had all been worth it.

\---

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT  
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST  
ENTERTAINMENT SEGMENT  
AIRED 26 MAY 2013 - 23:42-23:48

SAKURAI SHO, ANCHOR: And that's all for sports. We move on to our entertainment report. This past Friday at the Tokyo Dome, the two remaining members of Our Nation's Voices along with several members of the Playzone idol agency came together for a tribute to the fallen, one year on. An estimated 86,000 fans packed the arena for a moving show.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

SAKURAI: (narration) The usual custom at these shows is to bring a fan with the name of your favorite idol, but instead the thousands of guests brought fans with the names of those they'd lost, those they wished to remember from forty-eight long years of pain. There was laughter and there were tears. A reminder that nobody, not a single person, will ever be forgotten.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

SAKURAI: All proceeds for the show will go to fund the Paradise Circus memorial, still under construction in Nerima. Moving on to the latest in the cinema world, director Fukagawa Yoshihiro-san has enlisted the talents of actress Toda Erika for a film based on the men and women of the Japan Will Rise Again movement. The film will begin production in a few weeks in...

\---

It was strange to walk this road. For years he'd grown accustomed to the jeep meeting him at the train station or by the grocery store. Now he walked with his hands in his pockets, the canopy of trees overhead seeming far more beautiful than they ever had before. Before they'd been kind of suffocating. All of the signs along the way discouraging trespassers were long gone, and some people were arguing that all the trees should be uprooted to lay the Paradise grounds bare rather than cloak them as they had for fifty years.

Ohno thought the trees were necessary. They reminded him a bit of the walk to the Meiji Shrine in the center of Tokyo. He'd been to the shrine as part of a school trip when he was young, and he remembered feeling so bored, walking and walking and walking to the temple complex. He'd thought then that he would never get there. Of course, it hadn't been as far as he'd thought.

He thought the same as the trees started to thin out. He expected the walls and the barbed wire to emerge out of the forest the way they always had, locking things in. The walls had come down - all the other buildings were being preserved as part of the memorial, as a reminder of what everyone had been through. But the walls, the government and the people decided, the walls could go.

So instead of the walls, there was the parking lot. He suspected some trees were going to be knocked down to make the parking lot larger for visitors in the future, but for now it looked the same. Very few people came here now anyway since the memorial wasn't ready yet. It would be another few months, he'd heard Sho-san say on the news.

The Midway rides were roped off, closed. They'd never run again, and he wondered if they'd let the jet coaster simply rust with the passage of time. The hotel up on the hill with its swimming pool was mostly locked, but Ohno could see crews going in and out. Construction and surveying teams, looking inside to see how things could be arranged to best allow for the flow of visitors without destroying the space.

The Village houses were still there. Ohno's stuff was probably gone though. On the day peace had come, he'd only stopped for one thing - the letters he'd stashed in the closet. He'd taken those and walked out of Paradise Circus, walked all the way to his parents' house with the box in his arms. It had taken him almost all day.

He ran a website now, in his spare time when he wasn't at the community center lifeguarding. He scanned the letters, posted them online with what information he had about who'd written them. He sent the originals to the families or the recipients, whoever contacted him to claim them. He wished he could have saved more letters. He'd had 10 years to save letters, and he hadn't.

He pushed those thoughts away as he moved north to the gardens, seeing that they'd added even more stones. They'd drained the koi pond completely, moving the fish elsewhere, for the stones. They'd had to go through years of records. They were smooth, polished black stones with names inscribed into each one. The stones were kept together in what had been the pond, and the pile was getting larger all the time as they added more. When it was done there'd be more than a million and a half names, a million and a half stones. Ohno wondered what that many stones would look like gathered all together.

There was a bench there, and he saw that Nino and Jun were already there, sitting and talking. He still sometimes felt like he was intruding if he interrupted them, but they got up, greeted him. He'd grown so used to seeing Jun in his uniform all those months; it was kind of odd seeing him in civilian clothes now. He was still in the Self-Defense Force, a desk job now. He seemed to be doing well there.

Nino was never as stiff and formal as Jun, foregoing a handshake and throwing his arms around Ohno like they'd been friends forever rather than a year. "I heard Yasuda can't make it," Nino said with a sigh. "But I guess when you're Mr. Documentary Filmmaker Extraordinaire, you can't take time for your friends."

"He'll be back next week," Jun said, rolling his eyes. "He's in America, you know. It's a big deal."

Ohno didn't really envy Yasuda-kun, all the way over on the other side of the world, interviewing the people who lived in the small pockets of civilization left there. But that's why Ohno was a lifeguard, not a director.

"Hello! Hey, I'm here!"

They turned to see Aiba coming up the pathway, all smiles. It was completely contagious, and Ohno laughed as Aiba nearly tripped over a plant on his way over. "It's good to see you!" he said, opting for a Nino method of greeting. "Can you believe it's been a whole year already?"

"No!" Nino said, "No, you can't start reminiscing until he gets here. You know how those celebrity types are. They can't stand it if they aren't the center of attention."

"You know, I can hear you," Sakurai Sho said, coming from the opposite direction, dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt and jingling car keys. 

When they were all gathered (and with a collective hello to the absent cameraman), they stood together in front of the pond full of stones. Aiba made them hold hands, and Jun complained, but Ohno gave the soldier a nudge and he gave in. They stood side by side, hands linked, and closed their eyes.

"For Paradise Circus," Nino said quietly.

"For Paradise Circus," Ohno repeated with the others.

They stayed in the gardens for some time talking before the five of them piled into Sho's fancy car and headed for a meal. "It's what, 2:00 AM in America right now?" Nino asked, pulling out his cell phone as Sho drove them back under the trees. "Let's call Yasu-chan..."

"There's no cell towers over there," Jun pointed out. 

Nino scowled at him. "You're never any fun."

"No, I'm not," Jun admitted, the slightest smile poking out at the corners of his mouth.

Aiba was beside Sho in the front seat, and he started gabbing. "Sooooo I was reading a tabloid at the convenience store..."

"Since when can you read?" Nino chimed in.

"Shut up," he barked back at Nino before turning his attentions back to Sho. "Anyway, so I was reading this tabloid magazine, and I swear, this one's always right about these things..."

"Aiba-san," Sho grumbled, his hands tightening around the steering wheel.

"...and it said that super bachelor newscaster Sakurai Sho was seen on a date!"

"A woman would actually go out with you?" Nino teased, happy to go after any target in the car.

Aiba grinned. "A date with a famous actress! I wonder which one it could be! Hmm, I bet I know who it is!"

Sho turned bright red. "I'm trying to drive here!"

Ohno tuned out the sounds of Aiba teasing Sho about Kitagawa Keiko and ignored Nino's repeated attempts to get a call through to Yasuda's phone. He thought back a year in time, thought about everything that had happened. About the people he'd met and the friends he'd made for life.

He looked out the window of Sho's car with a smile as the trees disappeared, and they left Paradise Circus behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes** :
> 
> *[Paradise Circus](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V93gs6jx-j8) is a song by Massive Attack. It doesn't have much to do with the story at all, lyrically, but credit where credit is due.
> 
> *The main plot inspiration for this story is an episode of Star Trek: The Original Series. It's called [A Taste of Armageddon](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/A_Taste_of_Armageddon_%28episode%29), and no, I'm not ashamed.
> 
> *For the Civilian Manual, I borrowed some of the language and many of the ideas from this [old employee manual](http://www.negative-g.com/Old-Chicago/Old-Chicago-Employee-Manual-1.htm) for the Old Chicago indoor theme park. 
> 
> *Even though this is an alternate history, I hope there are no glaring errors in any of the history I did try and incorporate. I very much wanted to ground this story in reality rather than go full-on Hunger Games dystopia. Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!


End file.
